Lackluster
by Unadulterated
Summary: Ed is removed from his abusive stepfather's care after years of hurt – and placed in the home of his direct superior Roy Mustang. With Al missing and Ed attempting to cope with unbelievable scarring, can Roy hope to be able to help Ed? Warning: child abuse.
1. I

**Lackluster: adj. – lacking in brilliance or radiance; dull; lacking liveliness, vitality, spirit, or enthusiasm.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, no.**

* * *

><p>The world outside was a blustery white. Snow silently beat at the windows from the storm outside, but the unfortunate weather had no affect on those inside the room.<p>

There were three. One was unconscious. One was shuffling cards. One was hunched in the hospital chair closest to the bed, elbows on his knees and eyes trained almost ferociously on the figure lying on the bed. A sharp sound like paper ripping cut through the silence as the cards were shuffled again, bridged, and pushed together into the deck.

The shuffler stopped his interminable task and stared at the man on the other side of the bed. Dark hair, usually immaculately styled into a mess the girls just loved, was now haphazardly ruffled from all the times he'd run his hands anxiously through his hair as of late. Slanted, striking eyes, so dark blue they almost seemed black, usually alert and calculating, were now cradled by dark bruises that spoke of sleepless nights. Roy Mustang was usually the most obviously collected, ever unshakable, but was now falling apart.

Breda sighed and dropped his eyes again, shuffling the cards once more.

"Sir… how long are we going to be staying here?"

Roy looked up at him, evaluating his presence. Breda didn't shift or flinch under the sharp gaze. Finally, the Colonel's eyes wandered over to the window and the snow outside.

"At least until the storm lets up," he said flatly. "You can leave after that."

"And you?" Breda wondered, a little more timidly.

Roy didn't respond. His head seemed to sink lower where his chin was cupped in his hands.

"You can't stay here forever," Breda warned.

"I won't. Just until it goes one way or another."

Privately, Breda wasn't sure they'd even ever find _that_ out, glancing back at the unconscious body on the bed. But Mustang could be the most stubborn man in the world when he wanted to be, and he wasn't about to budge from his vigil.

"I'll go get us some coffee," Breda said aloud, standing and stretching out the cramps in his muscles from sitting in one place so long. Roy had been there much longer—how he stood it, Breda had no idea, but the Colonel was invincible like that. Well, mostly invincible.

At the door, Breda paused and looked over his shoulder at his commanding officer. Roy still had on his uniform, but it was rumpled and bore little streaks of blood; he hadn't changed since Friday night, when it happened. Stubble was evident on his chin—he hadn't shaved either, hadn't done anything but watched over that lonely body in the bed and hoping the heart monitors wouldn't flat line, hoping consciousness would return.

Mostly invincible, except to the blows from his own heart.

"It's not your fault," Breda said softly. There was no outward indication that Roy had heard him, but Breda knew he had; after a moment, Roy sighed and straightened, wincing as he stretched the kinked muscles in his back. His gaze lingered on the prone figure regretfully.

"He's too small for that bed," Roy said in a voice barely above a whisper. "So short he's just drowning in it…"

"Chief would shout your face off if he heard you saying that," Breda joked, trying to add a sense of joviality to the somber scene.

"I wish he would," Roy said flatly. "But the shrimp's got to wake up, first."

"He will." Breda put every ounce of conviction he had into the words. Roy glanced at him, offering a split-second view of the despairing depths of those blue-black eyes, and turned back to the body. Edward Elric, lying limp on a hospital mattress, under thin white sheets, looking even smaller than usual, though that might be the absence of his elevated boots.

Roy returned to his former position, elbows on his knees, chin held in his palms. His slanted eyes were weary from keeping this pointless watch—it had been several days since he'd gotten more than two hours of sleep. He was beating himself up for this turn of events, but from where Breda was standing, it was thanks to the Colonel that Ed was alive right now. Bruised, beaten, stabbed, and hanging onto life by his metaphorical fingertips on one hand, but he was alive.

And getting more stable, too; they'd been able to take him off the respirator yesterday and he was now breathing on his own.

But the fact couldn't be avoided that he looked like death itself. His usual tan from his missions spent outside and traveling was nonexistent in the pallor of his face, which in turn was only visible in sparse places where the bruises hadn't touched. His left eye had been swollen shut when he got here, but now it could probably be opened if the kid could muster the energy to try and wake up. His nose had been a bloody mess but was healing nicely. His bruises were an ugly yellow, but that was better than the blue-purple they had been. His normally blinding golden mane was out of its usual braid and spread across the pillow, bleached to a light, pasty blond by the sterile whiteness of the hospital.

It was what was under the sheets that was the most worrying, however. The automail arm was busted beyond use and the Rockbell girl couldn't even repair it until he was more stable. His right femur was shattered and now in a cast. Broken ribs. Dislocated left shoulder. And the wounds that contributed the most to his near death: two knife wounds just under his ribs, barely an inch apart from each other. Not to mention however many other lacerations and bruises marked the boy's body.

Breda hadn't been there when Ed had almost died, and he guiltily was thankful that Hughes and Mustang were the ones who had been there for him. Neither soldier had explained anything of the situation except that it had everything to do with General Hinze and they'd gotten there within moments of the last fatal blow being struck. Ten seconds later—five, even—and the body on the hospital bed would be taking up its small space in a coffin.

The shudder at the thought expressed itself as a shiver down Breda's spine, and he closed the door and set out on his quest for coffee.

Roy didn't watch him leave. His eyes were elsewhere.

* * *

><p>Ed didn't so much as twitch on his own until Thursday afternoon.<p>

Roy had finally shifted his position from the chair. He'd gotten three and a half hours of sleep the night before and had managed to convince Lieutenant Hawkeye to let him stay here instead of work for nearly the entire week. She hadn't really agreed; had told him if he were to stay he'd have to do his paperwork with no incentive other than his own goodwill. She'd intended to have those terms force him back to the office, but now he was leaning against the small table by Ed's hospital bed and scrawling his signature across his paperwork.

His uniform had been replaced by a simple white shirt and slacks; the blue military jacket was now at the drycleaner's to remove the blood stain. He'd shaved yesterday and the bruises under his eyes were slightly smaller after cleaning up, like removing the signs of his weariness had expunged a bit of the fatigue itself.

Once in a while he'd interrupt his hasty scribbling to look at the reason he was still here; but the blond stretched out on the hospital bed never moved, belying every one of Roy's memories of the little hurricane of temper that would barge into his office. All that energy seemed to have been drained now, and what little of it remained had been put to good use—all it could do was continue the beating of his heart, that steady movement of his chest rising… and falling… and rising…

Roy tore his eyes away from the limp form and continued on his paperwork.

The pattern continued; he'd fill out the many forms, his concentration would dwindle, he'd stare at Ed for a few moments and return to his work when he caught his attention drifting. Again, he found himself tapping his chin idly with the pen and staring at Ed, who stared back with golden eyes.

He forced himself back to his paperwork.

Then froze; double take—Ed's eyes were staring at him.

He was awake.

The pen dropped with a tiny clatter, clearly heard in the silent hospital room. Roy nearly tripped over his chair and dragged it over almost as an afterthought, and he sat down in it while it was still crooked and not quite facing the bed. His knees brushed the sheets hanging over the side and Roy couldn't make himself back off.

Those golden eyes were open. Dull, empty, _so_ tired (how could a boy so young be so tired?) but open.

"Fullmetal?" Roy said softly, barely daring to speak louder, as if any kind of volume would scare him back into the depths of his unconscious.

Ed didn't say anything in return, just blinked once, slowly. His eyes wandered away from Roy's gaze and found the ceiling; Roy figured he'd look down again soon enough, the little spider-web cracks up there weren't particularly interesting. He wouldn't tell anyone how he knew that—_hours spent waiting, tracing the tiny fractures with his eyes, but it wasn't alchemy and his mind was racing, would he live?_—but he knew it as a fact in any case.

Eventually, Ed's dull eyes found his again.

"Colonel." The voice was rusty and pained and it fell flat in the empty hospital room.

A silence, filled by a desperate hope, sheer will, a world of pain.

"Do you need anything?" Roy said softly. "I can call a nurse…" The offer seemed sound, but Ed only looked at him with dead eyes and Roy took that as a negative.

"Feel like shit," Ed finally managed. Roy believed it; Edward _looked_ the way he said he _felt_. "What…" He sounded almost hesitant, but he plowed on: "What happened?"

Roy pursed his lips and formulated his thoughts, trying to think of the best way to say this. Not that there _was_ a best way, when it came down to it. Did Ed remember any of what happened Friday night? He had to.

"Hinze did a number on you," he said at last.

Ed blinked, then his eyes widened, terror shining through the depths; that, more than anything else, made Roy wish he could go torch that monster Hinze into a nice little patch of charcoal, never mind what consequences may come of it.

"He—" Ed seemed to be gasping for air at the mere thought of the General, and finally he managed to inhale a shaky breath. "Yeah. Must have been him. He thought I…" He trailed off and looked at Roy with those tired, panicked eyes.

"He thought you told," Roy finished softly. He knew—he'd heard the shouting from several houses away, as well as the screams. "Why didn't you?"

Ed closed his eyes, his features a mask of barely restrained despair. "Couldn't. He knew too much. Could've… firing squad for me. Lab for Al… Taboo…"

The reply was vague and broken, but Roy got the message. Hinze had been holding his knowledge of their attempt at human transmutation over their heads for as long as this had been going on. There was a possibility that Ed would have called him on it and risked the consequences for himself, but there was no way he would have endangered Al. And now his silence had come to this.

The pinched distress on Ed's bruised face tore at Roy's heart like nothing had in a long time. On a sudden impulse, he reached forward and brushed his limp bangs away from his eyes, off his forehead and over to rest by his ears. Ed's eyes snapped open at the touch and he stared with a disbelieving kind of confusion at his commanding officer.

Roy had to consciously stop himself from freezing guiltily in the act and drew away slowly instead, like this was the most natural thing in the world. Why the hell had he done that?

"Hinze's in a holding cell for now," Roy told Ed quietly, expecting relief but only receiving an even more guarded look. "I don't know how long he'll be in prison—he'll probably do his best to weasel out of a sentence—but I can guarantee you won't be going back to his care."

"So where m'I gonna go?" Ed asked slowly.

Roy paused at that. "We're… still working things out." Honestly, in reckless abandonment of his usual forethought, he hadn't thought much past the stage of getting Ed to safety and out of Hinze's grasp. What to do after… well, now that Ed was awake he could afford to think beyond.

"An orphanage, right?" the blond boy said desolately. "Shit… I've been an orphan for years, but…"

Roy didn't know what to say to that. Any promises now could very well be utterly empty by the time Ed's situation was actually worked out. "You're going to be here at least another six weeks," Roy said. "By that time we'll know where you're going, most likely much sooner. We'll tell you when it's worked out."

Ed didn't nod, didn't acknowledge, just closed his eyes. His face was immediately wiped clean of everything except the bruises he couldn't hide. Roy recognized the signs and decided to leave Ed alone. Soon enough, the rise and fall of Ed's chest, slightly sporadic from his distress, evened out as he succumbed to sleep.

Roy was still sitting tense on the edge of his seat, watching Ed like a hawk, when the Hawk's Eye herself entered the room twelve minutes later.

"Sir?" Riza ventured. Roy quickly relaxed his pose to something more professional and less desperate, knowing that she normally would have barged right in had she not caught him at a weak moment.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" he said, trying to be formal, but this was almost becoming too much for him.

"The hospital has provided a full list of his injuries, if you wished to look," she said cautiously, her heels clacking against the flooring as she made her way across the distance to him.

Roy immediately shook his head. "I've seen enough. I know all his life-threatening injuries and that's good enough for me." It was uncharacteristic of him to brush this off, but the Lieutenant seemed to hear the silent message: _I can't take anymore than I already know._

"Lieutenant…" Roy paused, staring at Ed, then continued, "Where's he going once he's discharged?"

"I've been looking into that," Riza said, tucking the medical file under her arm. "This is an… unusual case. Generally, when a child's guardian is found unfit, they would go to a relative. Edward, however, has no relatives. In that case, he would usually be released to the State, and go to an orphanage—but he's also part of the military. From what I've found… His guardianship now goes to his commanding officer." She leveled her stare at him—almost a glare, more of a warning—as her words sunk in.

Roy tore his gaze away from the blond on the bed and turned instead to the one standing before him. His dark eyes were wide. "Me? _Me?_ I'm supposed to be his guardian now?"

Riza nodded solemnly. "The only other option, it seems, would be for you to make arrangements at an orphanage. But then he'd probably have to be discharged from the military, as it's a _State_ orphanage, so I don't think Edward would take well to that." Her hands were clenched tight over the folders she was holding as she waited for further response from the Colonel.

Roy stared at her for a long moment, mouth slightly open; he snapped his jaw shut hastily when he realized he was gaping and looked back at Ed again, though he knew exactly what he would see. The image was permanently ingrained on his retina for how long he'd been staring the past six days. He was dead to the world once more and hadn't heard a word of the conversation. Roy almost wished he had—then he'd have a reaction to work off of, to decide whether this would be a good idea or not.

"I'm really not sure about this," he stalled, feeling almost queasy.

"You don't have to be for at least another week," Riza said. "Try getting used to the idea. And, with all due respect, sir, I mean _try_. Ed needs the military, no matter what it's done to him in the past. Your answer will need to be ready by next Friday; it'll take from then until Edward is discharged to process the paperwork, whichever way you choose."

Riza dropped off several more files onto the surprisingly small stack he had left to fill out. With the medical report still tucked under her left arm, she saluted and left the room. The door closed behind her quietly.

Silence replaced her presence in the hospital room. Roy was still staring blankly at the door and he finally looked away, bringing his gaze down to the floor as he thought.

So, General Hinze was fully out of the picture of Ed's life at this point. That was good—he'd been a rotten stepfather for such genius boys as the Elric brothers. He wouldn't be leaving them any money, a place to stay, or even his last name, but Roy knew he'd left more than his fair share of scars. Due to his sudden rage (Roy tried to ignore the guilt that still gnawed: _he could have prevented that if he'd been thinking straight_), Ed was hovering between life and death here in the hospital. And Al was absolutely nowhere to be found. (Though how they'd lost a seven-foot suit of armor with a twelve-year-old soul bound to it, no one really knew.)

Roy could either take Ed into his own home or doom him to an orphanage until he turned eighteen. The kid had turned fourteen a little over a month ago, so that would still be a good four years from now. And even though Riza hadn't said anything of the sort, from her slightly downturned mouth and hard eyes—harder than usual, that is—she wouldn't forgive him if he put Ed through that. Hell, he didn't think he could forgive _himself_ if he did that.

He didn't need a week. He knew now.

Ed would be sharing a home with Colonel Roy Mustang in six weeks.

Damn that General Hinze.

* * *

><p><strong>This being my first story, I'd like some reviews to see if my writing's worth posting before I put up the second chapter. Yes, I'm shamelessly begging for reviews. But please, if you feel so inclined, let me know if you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is much enjoyed!<strong>

**~ Un**Adulterat_ed_


	2. II

**Thank you so much for your reviews! Definitely encouraging! So, here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it. Sadly.**

* * *

><p>The doctors had said it would be a while before Ed woke up again, but in his usual paranoia Roy convinced himself the Lieutenant had asked them to say so in an effort to get him back to his desk. And sure enough, the doctors <em>were<em> wrong—Ed woke up once more the next day, Friday, just as Roy was considering going for lunch.

He'd been staring at the same sheet of paperwork for the past ten minutes without marking anything. Tapping the pen pointlessly against his jaw, waiting for the words on the page to organize themselves into something that made sense in his muddled thoughts…

"Colonel?"

Roy started and looked over. The word had been hoarse and quiet in the blanketing silence of the hospital room, but definitely there, and he wasn't disappointed in his search for alertness; Ed's golden eyes were open and staring at him again. The dullness was still evident, but unless Roy's mind was deceiving him, he wasn't quite as down as yesterday.

The pen went down on the table without hesitation and Roy scooted his chair over to the side of the bed. "Fullmetal." As soon as the word was out of his mouth, Roy wished he'd said Ed or Edward instead, just to see if that would liven the kid up a little, but it was too late to fix his phrasing.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, sizing each other up: Roy took in the tarnish in the gold eyes and dead expression, while Ed's eyes scanned the exhaustion on the older man's face and the intense focus as he looked at his subordinate.

"Feeling any better than yesterday?" Roy asked quietly.

Ed's gaze slid away from his face and instead focused at the air over his left shoulder as he seriously considered the question. "Not really. Slightly less shitty, I guess," he offered.

"You don't look any better," Roy murmured softly. He looked away and silence descended once again. The Colonel rubbed his hands together and placed them on his knees; took a deep breath and let it out again. "You were wondering yesterday where you were going to go, weren't you?"

The golden gaze sharpened fractionally and Ed nodded slightly, the movement seeming to cost him a little. "You figured it out yet?"

Roy nodded. "Your situation is a little strange. You have no relatives and you're under the jurisdiction of the military. Hawkeye looked into it and figured the best thing we could get would be for your guardianship to be handed over to your commanding officer."

Ed took a moment to process that—too long, for his sharp mind, but Roy couldn't blame him for being a little slow on the uptake after the recent trauma. Then the teen's eyes widened slightly.

"You?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"Oh."

Roy wasn't sure what to make of that. So short that the inflection gave away nothing and his face was similarly closed off. He thought the absence of screaming and yelling might be a good sign, but honestly that could simply be the lack of energy rather than a sign that the news had gone over well.

"Can you… call the nurses…" Ed's breathing sounded slightly stilted and he was gritting his teeth. His left hand twitched at the sheets like his intention was to grip them tightly, but his muscles only spasmed, too abused to obey. "Hurts. Something for the pain…"

Roy nodded instantly. "Of course."

Once called, a nurse scurried in, replaced an empty bag on the IV stand and made an exit immediately after. Less than a minute later, Roy could see the tense muscles in Ed's jaw and neck relax as the medication began to kick in.

"Better," Ed mumbled. His voice was slightly slurred as the medication dulled his senses. "Lot better. What the hell was that?"

Roy checked and winced a little. "Diluted morphine. Probably due to the knife wounds, that's causing a lot of your problems."

"Morphine?" Ed echoed drowsily. "Ooh. He got me good this time… But, yeah, he always gets madder when he gets nervous…"

Roy shut his eyes tight as something conspired in his throat to stop his breathing. Ed's drugged ramblings were already putting him on edge barely three sentences into it.

"I'm gonna sleep now," Ed whispered, voice raw. "Hurts to move… but that's just like him…"

He fell silent, but his eyes remained opened and glazed, staring at something on the ceiling that wasn't there. Roy didn't say anything for a long while, watching the immobile boy, then:

"Fullmetal."

"Huh?" He was so vulnerable, once you took away the energy that fueled his obnoxious temper.

Roy took a breath. "How long was Hinze hurting you for? When did it start?" He really hated to ask, so soon after the boy had woken up, but General—soon to be ex-General, actually—Hinze wasn't being all too helpful from his holding cell.

"Why the hell does it matter?" Ed's voice was hazy and tired but direct.

"We've been trying to clear up exactly what he's guilty of. Already he's been charged with child abuse and assault of a younger officer. Any other charges that come to mind?"

Momentary silence, then a choked little sob. Ed's lower lip was trembling, his eyes squeezed shut. "Go away," he gasped, and his flesh hand spasmed again on the sheets.

Roy was fairly sure that was a _yes_, but he didn't pry any further. It was obvious Ed wouldn't be able to take the interrogation in this state.

"We'll talk later. Your mechanic is going to be coming in soon," he said, changing the topic quickly and deliberately. "She hasn't been able to before, when you weren't stable, since the doctors were worried your body wouldn't be able to take the trauma, but she'll be fixing you up any day now."

He felt like he was rambling and wondered if Ed was even listening. A look proved that the blond boy's features had smoothed, and his lip was no longer trembling. After nearly a minute of simply staring, Roy realized he was asleep. Well.

Tiredly, the Colonel sighed and shut his eyes, pushing his seat towards the bedside table with his feet and following Ed's excellent example. Hopefully Hawkeye wouldn't walk in soon, or she'd shoot him for falling asleep on top of his paperwork.

* * *

><p>Saturday—another day, and Roy still secluded himself from the world, locked away in that small room. Just until he could be sure Ed was alright, he assured himself. Then he'd leave…<p>

Roy squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again to look out the window. It was late February, and the snow from Tuesday's storm still sat plump on the expanse visible from Roy's vantage point. Trees were laden with the white icy slush and Roy was quite happy to be inside and away from all the disagreeable weather.

"Winter's too cold. And too wet," he muttered to himself, absently massaging the array stitched on the back of his gloves.

"Only for a wet match like yourself," came the voice from the doorway. "Have you seen Elysia playing in the snow? She's adorable!"

Roy lips lifted slightly into a small smile and, without having to turn around, he said, "Hello, Maes, fancy seeing you here." He turned his head and looked over his shoulder to see a welcome sight: his best friend, Maes Hughes, leaning against the doorframe with his hands folded casually over his chest. Smirking slightly as Roy's eyes found him, the Lieutenant Colonel detached himself from the door and sauntered over.

"Yo, Roy, thought you might like a little company. Well, _conscious_ company, that is, I'm aware that otherwise my presence doesn't quite match up to Shorty's over there."

"Who the hell… are you calling short…" the voice was soft, but irritated all the same, and Roy perked up while Maes' view swung around in surprise.

"You're awake!" the spectacled man said, rather obviously, as Roy moved his chair over. "You feeling alright? That bastard sure kicked you around," Maes said sympathetically.

Ed had just a little more energy than yesterday, as well as a bit more apparent humor. His golden gaze locked onto Maes incredulously. "Alright? You're joking, aren't you?"

Maes shrugged, unconcerned at the jibe at his sanity. "Innocent question, kid, don't bite my head off. Gracia's worried about you, you know, and Elysia's been asking about her big brother. You're so lucky to have their affection! Have I showed you the new album—"

Both Ed and Roy winced slightly as the opening to another bout of Maes' eccentricity with the photos of his family.

"Oh…" Maes patted his uniform down and looked disheartened. "I left the pictures at home…" As Roy breathed a sigh of relief, Maes shot his friend a pointed glare, then snorted and shook his head before turning back to Ed with a softened expression. "You're going to be pretty bored in here for the next little while," he said, "but please don't go traumatizing your nurses. Be a good boy. You're here for…"—he thought—"five weeks minimum, up to eight or more if there are complications with the knife wound. But you'll live, so I think we can stop worrying now." Another pointed glare to Roy. "That last bit was delivered directly from the Hawk's Eye, and I think she's a little put out you've ditched out on the office for a full week now. She wants you back on Monday, no excuses."

Ed cast a glance at Roy and let out a short laugh, but stopped quickly with a grimace as the innocent gesture tore at his wounded torso. "Gee, you slacker, you've been sloughing off work all week? How'd you get away with that?"

_Because she could see what this whole situation was doing to me…_ Roy cleared his throat and gestured to the paperwork piled high on the table that resided stubbornly out of Ed's sightline as his eyes strained to see. "Don't get me wrong, Fullmetal, I've still been working. Been filling out forms while I was in here, without Hawkeye breathing down my neck, too."

Ed had his eyebrows raised. "And how many times did she have to come in and threaten to kill you?"

"Twice," Roy lied. In truth, zero—but Ed didn't have to know _quite_ how desperately terrified he'd been.

"So," Maes interjected, "What's this I hear about Roy signing up to be your guardian?" The spectacled man wiggled his eyebrows at Roy before letting his expression settle into one of amused curiosity.

Roy was slightly annoyed that his friend had changed the subject so abruptly, but his annoyance turned to something more akin to concern when he noted Ed's reaction: the golden eyes closed off suddenly, and his dulled but still detectable flair was extinguished under something Roy wasn't quite sure he understood. The smirk previously ghosting about his mouth had high-tailed away to its grave and Ed's face was utterly blank.

Ed didn't answer, and Maes eventually raised a second eyebrow as he instead looked to Roy with an expectant expression. But Roy had no idea what to say, and simply shrugged.

"Alriiiiight," Maes said slowly, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated movement. "I'm sure you two will get along famously. Ed, try not to beat him up too bad, deal?"

Roy glanced sharply at his old time friend in disbelief and shook his head sharply. The kid had been beaten within an inch of his life and Maes went ahead and _joked_ about domestic violence?

Maes seemed to read the look and winced apologetically. "Not that I think there will be any of that in the house," he hedged, and shut up after seeing Roy's flat response to his awkward attempt at taking back the slip.

Ed still didn't react. After a lengthy and somewhat uncomfortable silence, the boy asked, "When will my automail get fixed?"

"Soon," Roy assured him. "Your mechanic is already here—it's just a matter of when the doctors think your body's up to the trauma."

"Better be soon," Ed said weakly, and closed his eyes. The silence resumed, and this time the blond didn't speak up. Finally it appeared that the blond had fallen asleep, and Roy allowed himself to relax some.

Roy looked up and shared a glance with Maes. "Do you think he'll be okay?" Roy asked softly, searching for some simple reassurance.

Maes shrugged and gave an attempt at a light-hearted grin. "You tell me, you've been around here a lot more lately. It's almost like you're worried or something."

He received a glare for the end of that comment. "_Almost like_?" Roy spat. "I am! That kid… he shouldn't have had to go through that…"

Maes' expression turned down into a frown as he glanced regretfully at the sleeping, exhausted teen, one hand massaging his temple lightly. "It's a good thing Hinze's in custody now," he muttered, and the Lieutenant Colonel's shoulders slumped as his posture and body language slid into something much more dejected and hurt than when he'd walked in, all energy and bounces. Something closer to giving up. "A stepfather is supposed to care for a kid, not beat him down like this. Have you figured out how long this has been happening?"

Roy shook his head, not replying any further. Maes sighed and went on. "Seeing this… It's like… I see this and I think of Elysia, and I…" He made a helpless, despairing sound and pain filled his eyes at the mental image of his daughter in Ed's place.

A muscle jumped in Roy's jaw. "Don't. This will never happen to Elysia. You wouldn't let it. You wouldn't do this."

Maes ran a distracted hand through his hair. "Which pleads the question, what kind of person would? I'm sure you've been looking through his past actions, if his morals are this dubious…" Roy's body language didn't shift and Maes eyed him thoughtfully; "Or maybe you haven't, if you've been locking yourself up in here all week. Anyway, I guess I'll look into it. This could boost you up if you can show that you're the one who brought what he's done to light, you know."

"Yes, I am the one who brought it to light," Roy snapped, his eyes blazing suddenly, "and that very nearly killed Fullmetal!"

"If you're taking him home with you, shouldn't you call him Edward?" Maes queried flatly.

The glare didn't recede. "That very nearly killed _Edward_," he ground out, apparently not very pleased with the order for the correction.

Silence descended for a moment as Roy's onyx eyes fixated onto Ed's sleeping form once more, his fists clenching on his knees while his shoulders remained stiffly tensed. Maes stared at his friend with his head cocked to the side thoughtfully.

"Is that why you're here, Roy?" he said softly. "You think it's your fault?"

Roy didn't reply, but his tense posture and the guilt in his gaze answered for him.

Maes shook his head slowly, eyes darkening. "Roy, don't do this to yourself. You were _trying_ to help him. Just because the file got misplaced—"

"Got misplaced is a bit of an understatement, it went straight to Hinze!"

"You sound like you're blaming Havoc, now," Maes snapped harshly. "He's the one who handed the stack over, but he didn't know what was going to happen any more than you did!"

Roy just shook his head slowly. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Maes? This whole thing—it's so screwed up. Why…" He sounded lost, frustrated, at the end of his rope. "You're the family man. Why don't you take him in? I can't handle this."

Maes softened at the desperation heard in his friend and slowly shook his head. "You'll do fine, Roy. Really. Ed will be safe now that you're the one looking after him."

Roy grunted noncommittally and lowered his gaze to glare at the floor. "Sure," he said half-heartedly. Then he sighed explosively and leaned over, resting his head on crossed arms next to Ed on the bed.

Taking this as a dismissal, Maes stood up and made his way to the door.

He looked back once, when he was halfway out the door, and stared at the morose little scene: a broken child, his guilt-ridden guardian, the picture centered around the hospital bed and the heart monitor, beeping its promise with an ominous sound, but as long as it continued, things would eventually be okay…

And then, for one split second, it was Elysia instead of Ed, and Maes turned away with a wince and closed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>Roy sat in the waiting room, an unusual location for him. He generally walked right through to whatever patient he was visiting and sat in their room, but he'd been kicked out of Edward's room and he had allowed himself to be. He wouldn't be able to provide Ed with any comfort, honestly, and he also didn't want to get caught in the crossfire.<p>

It was Tuesday. The Lieutenant had finally forced him back to the office, now that Ed was for certain going to live, though he spent his evenings here at the hospital rather than out catching a pretty face for nighttime enjoyments. And the doctors had finally announced that Ed was well enough to get his automail fixed.

Roy was fairly certain the Rockbell girl had been avoiding her childhood friend before, but now she couldn't, and the look on her face was enough to clear everyone else out of the room.

As Roy was making his escape down the hall towards the waiting room, he'd heard the beginnings of the verbal equivalent to a hurricane: "_I thought you said he'd stopped hurting you!"_ And the screams hadn't let up until a brave nurse pounded on the door, not daring to go in, and informed the incensed girl that she was disturbing the other patients. But apparently her screaming had been the only thing for her to hide behind, because ten seconds after she shut herself up, she was sobbing, kneeling next to Ed's bed, and those golden eyes were sad and guilty. He hadn't said a word during her entire rant.

Half an hour later, the mechanic stormed down the hall in a flurry, the fingers and palm of the automail arm sticking out of her bag like a scene from a horror movie. But instead of rushing out of the hospital, she claimed the seat next to Roy.

She was pretty, Roy noted distantly. Too young for him, of course; if she was Ed's same age than he was fourteen years her senior. Her brilliant blue eyes were rimmed with red and her lower lip was trembling alarmingly—though she'd stuck through the checkup with Ed to retrieve his automail to repair, it was obvious that she still wasn't okay.

"I tried to help him," she said, her voice cracking. She wasn't looking at Roy, but there was no one else she could be talking to, and so he listened. "I _tried_—but he knew that, and so he lied to me, and—and—I guess he didn't _want_ my help, and now look what happened, I—" She was at the verge of tears again, and Roy wasn't sure what to do; he could put a hand on her shoulder, but even the Rockbell girl knew his reputation with the ladies, and that might not be taken so well.

Luckily, she pulled herself out of despair before she could begin sobbing again, though she seemed to gulp her breaths and she blinked too often, trying to stay the tears shining in her eyes. "Thank you. For… being here with him…" Her voice was thick with unshed tears. "He hid it from you too, didn't he?"

And finally she looked over at him, and Roy had to look away. "Yes. He did."

"No clues at all? Not even for some super-manipulative military man?" she asked, attempting a weak smile at her weaker attempt at humor. Roy winced at the idea that Ed's opinions had preceded him.

He sighed. "Maybe. Maybe not. He was just a kid—I saw what I expected to see. It's a basic mistake to make, one I use myself all the time, I just—didn't expect—" He broke off as his own voice began to betray him.

The Rockbell girl, still staring at him, nodded slowly in understanding and then looked away. They sat, staring in the same direction—at nothing at all—until she finally asked a question that had to have been bothering her.

"Have you found Al?"

Roy shook his head sadly. "No."

Her hopeful posture slumped and she glared at the floor, but there was more sadness in her expression than anger. Then, a snort of frustration. "How on earth did we lose a seven foot suit of armor?" She shook her head and stood up to make for the door before turning back, almost as an afterthought, and waving a farewell. "Goodbye, Colonel."

Roy met her gaze with a parting gesture of his own, a nod and a half-hearted raise of one hand. "Goodbye, Miss Rockbell."

And after she left, he glared at the floor for several minutes, a single persistent thought racing around his head. Finally, he made his way back to Ed's hospital room, lips pursed and brow furrowed in anxiety.

Something was off. Ed had woken up several times now. And he was always such an overprotective older brother.

So why hadn't he asked for Al yet?

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Drop a line if you feel so inclined. Ask a question and I will answer it, or at least tell you that I can't answer it for the sake of the plot. XD<strong>

**~ Un**Adulterat_ed_


	3. III

**Wow. Can I just say that I am AMAZED at the reception this little brain-child of mine is getting? Nineteen reviews in two chapters and two weeks! Thank you to all you wonderful readers who reviewed - it may seem strange, but I didn't notice just how much of a cliffhanger last chapter was until most of you pointed it out. And, um, Al doesn't show up for a while and remains a mystery for several more chapters... *dodges rotten tomatoes* but I promise he's still part of the story. Whether he's dead or alive, however... You're going to have to wait to find out. XD**

**Ahem. As much as it pains me to give away any plot before it actually occurs, I feel obligated to deliver warnings to my readers of potentially distressing material. So, here we are. Warnings: Mentions of physical and sexual abuse.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, no.**

* * *

><p>A year ago—six months ago, even—Roy would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested he and Edward could coexist in the same house without blowing something up, right after he finished torching the poor sap who'd dared to put <em>that<em> nightmare into his mind, that is.

Now, however, that would have to happen, and the strangest part was that Roy actually believed that it might be possible. Well, it was true that they might still be uncomfortable coexisting, but it appeared that nothing would get blown up.

The abrasive, short-tempered boy he'd come to know had been replaced by a child who kept his back to a wall, an escape close at hand, and his eyes on the floor. Roy felt almost unable to move, sure that any shift in position would frighten the blond and cause him to bolt.

Edward shifted uncomfortably, his eyes flicking around the room warily. Maes had brought him a small suitcase of his clothes and now the boy's fingers were wrapped around the handle tighter than a vise. They were still standing in the hospital room where Ed had been a surprisingly obedient patient for the past six weeks, but Ed was no longer in a hospital gown—instead wearing his usual leather and tank top and loud red jacket that was at odds with his newly quiet persona—having changed in his preparation for their departure. Roy was thankful to finally escape the atmosphere of the hospital, that of lingering sickness and a whispered threat of death—Ed, on the other hand, looked downright apprehensive at the prospect of being taken in by hic commanding officer.

Understandable, given their past record of compatibility (or lack thereof) but Roy's ego was somewhat affronted: he was a better choice than Hinze, wasn't he?

Roy cleared his throat and Ed glanced up at him almost nervously. "It's time to go," the older man said, and the barely-fourteen-year-old nodded cautiously before fixing his gaze back on the floor. Roy turned to leave, looking over his shoulder to make sure his new charge was following him—which he was, in a surprisingly subdued manner.

Ed followed Roy to his car and slid into the back seat with his suitcase beside him as Roy opened the door to get into the driver's seat. The hospital had done a last cursory checkup on Ed and pronounced him to be well enough to be discharged, provided Mustang continued to help him with the bandages that were still wrapped around the knife wound and with the promise that Ed be brought straight back to the hospital should any complications occur. They'd actually been planning to sent him off tomorrow, but Roy had decided against any more waiting—so after Ed had eaten dinner at the hospital, they left. It was already dark outside.

The short journey to Roy's home was absolutely silent, and Roy could feel tension radiating off Ed in bucket loads. When the Colonel finally pulled in front of his house after a time that couldn't possibly have been as long as it felt, the blond was unexpectedly quick at jumping out of the car. He didn't tramp noisily into the house, however, as Roy a month ago might have expected, just stood hesitantly by the side of the car, once again clutching his suitcase in front of him like a shield. Roy took a breath, but let it out with a sigh and wound up gesturing Ed to his door nonverbally. The boy trailed after him like a lost puppy and followed him inside once he'd unlocked the front door.

Ed already looked tired, and Roy was uncomfortably aware of the fourteen-year-old's injuries; the exhaustion may or may not be stemming from his still too-recent brush with death, but Roy wasn't taking any chances.

"I'll take your suitcase up," Roy offered as he closed the front door behind them. Ed stared at him and blinked, doing an excellent imitation of a deer in the headlights. The Colonel reached forward to take the suitcase from Ed's grasp, and Ed stared down at what held his meager possessions with a detached air. Roy tugged once, and his new charge didn't seem to want to let the suitcase go. After a moment, Ed relinquished his grip and Roy stepped toward the stairs—Ed didn't move, just stood there.

"You can sit on one of the couches," Roy told him. "I'll be down in just a moment."

Once he ensured that Ed did indeed begin shuffling over to one of the couches, Roy continued up the stairs, then turned right, opening the second door on his left—that was Ed's room. Nothing special, really, just a bed, a bedside table with a lamp, a spindly desk with a wooden chair, a bureau against one wall. There was a picture hung on the wall near the bed, a pretty country landscape that Roy had received as a birthday present several years ago and had put up here for lack of a better location. Ed might like it, anyway—Risembool was a country town, wasn't it?

Roy set the suitcase on the bed and turned around to head back downstairs, already trying to guess what their first conversation as guardian and charge might be like. He could predict the outcome to nearly every encounter he had with another, so long as he knew the person and there was no new information, and was almost positive this encounter would end with Ed sidling away from an awkward talk, anxious and escaping to his new room. Well, best to get it over with. Roy took a breath to steel himself and headed down the stairs.

Ed was waiting on the couch nearest the stairs, glancing up as Roy came into view and turning his face away again to stare at the floor just as quickly. A timid little thing—not too long ago, Roy wouldn't have considered the possibility of Ed being reduced to this, but now… Now, the only word that came to Roy's mind was _broken._

Ed had been broken.

For the fiftieth time (or thereabouts) Roy assured himself that Hinze would pay.

Roy sat down almost gingerly next to Ed, his back straight as he kept the air of their talk as professional as possible without dredging up an office-like feel. "Welcome to my home," he said easily. "I suppose we'll be sharing elbow room for a while." He wasn't completely facing Ed, choosing instead to observe the boy out of the corner of his eyes. The only response Ed gave to his statement was a tiny nod after a short hesitation.

Well. This would be a little harder than he thought, if Ed was going to be this unresponsive. And it was—Roy tried, he really did, but Ed seemed much more interested in memorizing the pattern of his carpet than making conversation. Finally, when it was nearing nine o'clock (that was when fourteen-year-olds went to bed, wasn't it?) Roy stood up, feeling as if he was surfacing from a lake of syrup after that stilled half-conversation.

"Time to turn in," Roy said casually, and turned away towards the stairs. Well, time to barricade himself in his room and try to figure out what on earth he could do to make sense of what he was supposed to do with his new charge.

"You're not—" Ed began, almost stuttering, but the words stopped almost instantly, as if Ed wasn't sure he should be saying anything at all. Roy stopped and half turned his head.

"Hm?" the older man hummed curiously, not quite turning around but listening all the same.

"You're not… going to—take me to bed?" Ed managed, his voice strangely tight and tense. Though Ed couldn't see it, Roy arched his eyebrows at the query.

"You're fourteen, do you really need me to tuck you in?" he replied, a little more scathing than he'd meant to, but Ed couldn't _possibly_ expect him to treat his new charge like a toddler.

"I didn't mean…" and Ed fell silent again. Just as a cold shiver began crawling up Roy's spine.

No, he _didn't_ mean that. Roy ran over the phrasing again in his head—not '_put _me to bed,' but '_take _me to bed_.'_ As if to say… that they might… Roy could feel the rage rise up in a sudden flurry of heat as he caught the implication. He slowly turned himself to rest his cold gaze on Edward, who was now looking suitably nervous sitting on the couch, not looking anywhere near Roy. His bangs hung over his face, shielding his expression but failing to hide the noticeable pink tinge to his cheeks.

"_Take_ you to bed?" Roy growled, his voice deceptively soft. "What the hell do you take me for, some kind of pedophile?" Ed winced and hunched his shoulders, his long bangs swinging slightly with the movement as he still refused to make eye contact. The Colonel wanted to lash out, fry the kid into submission to ensure such an insinuation would never again taint his ears, but that would make him just like Hinze—

He didn't wait for any kind of answer from Ed, turning away to hide the tight rage on his face that refused to be hidden completely._ Take a breath, let it out. Don't kill the kid. Take a breath, let it out._ "Your room is upstairs, turn right, second door on the left. If you need me, _my_ room is upstairs, turn left and it's in front of your face." He delivered the information in clipped, too-formal tone of voice; usually not the one he chose when dealing with Ed, but it was either that or screaming anger.

Roy stormed up the stairs without another word and closed his bedroom door behind him possibly quite a bit louder than absolutely necessary. When within the constraints of his bed's covers, he forced himself to sleep before he could dwell on this unexpected turn of events any longer.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Roy woke reluctantly and glared at the clock next to his bed. It was almost seven. And it was a Saturday. Shouldn't he be allowed to sleep in? But it wasn't his alarm's fault, just his own internal clock, and he knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep this morning.<p>

With a sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and forced himself to his feet. If he was up, than he might as well get breakfast, and Roy slipped out of his room in his pajamas, mussing his already disheveled bed head with his fingers as he blinked and tried to bring the world into a more accurate focus. The stairs could be a treacherous obstacle when one was not fully aware.

His journey brought him to the kitchen, and he opened his refrigerator to scan its contents. Nothing extravagant inside, really, and he pulled out three eggs for his breakfast. Then hesitated. Ed—he'd almost forgotten about Ed.

Even just thinking of the blond boy sent a tingle of anger up his spine. That insinuation last night, speaking as though Roy would even consider sleeping with a child not even the age of consent. What the hell had the kid been thinking? But he could clear that up when the kid came down for breakfast. Roy would be willing to put his money on the speculation that Ed would be woken by his nose when he smelled the food in the kitchen.

Six eggs total, with their appropriate seasonings, all scrambled. Two pieces of toast, buttered. After a short glaring contest with the bacon in the fridge, tucked away in a corner almost out of sight, Roy also put four slices in the frying pan.

And apparently the Colonel wouldn't have lost any money, because Ed came shuffling in just as he was preparing to put the plates on the table. As he turned around, Roy saw that the shuffling wasn't due to tiredness as he'd thought—Ed was definitely alert, and rather the shuffling seemed to be brought on by that damned nervousness always hovering over the boy. He didn't meet Roy's eyes when he slunk nearer to the table, and Roy didn't speak quite yet, simply handing Ed the plate with half the eggs, half the toast, and all four pieces of bacon.

A rather significant change also drew Roy's attention: Ed had abandoned his usual loud, almost offensive, coat as well as his tank top and leather pants. He was wearing what must have been normal for a teenage boy, looser jeans and a short sleeve shirt over one with long sleeves. It looked surprisingly normal, yet rather out of place on Ed.

After blinking in slight surprise, Roy sat down. Ed remained standing, staring at his plate blankly.

Neither moved and there was a long silence, and Roy realized he'd have to broach the subject if there was to be any pretense of normality in this house.

"Last night," he began, and Ed visibly tensed at the seemingly innocuous words, "you… seemed to think that I…" Ed still wasn't looking at him, and Roy lost any forward momentum his little speech might have had. Blunt would work the best, he thought. "Why the hell would you think I'd sleep with you?" he asked Ed flatly, but again the boy didn't respond. "I'm straight," Roy continued. "I don't go for men. Nor do I go for _children_—I tend to date women near my own age, and I wouldn't ever touch a woman under the age of eighteen. Why the hell did you think I'd touch you like that?" There. Out in the open. With every reason that it was absurd, unnatural, revolting…

He expected—he didn't know what he expected, but he didn't expect Ed's tense shoulders to sag. Nor did he expect the words that came out of the boy's mouth: "Sorry," but the tone was one of utter relief. Roy blinked; Ed finally looked up from his plate to look at him, and fear lurked within the golden eyes. "I'm sorry," he said again, "I just thought…" He swallowed. "Because… Hinze would… do that…" his voice was by then a whisper, but he might as well have screamed it.

Roy looked away from the damning golden gaze and sat back in his chair. He didn't quite trust himself to speak, or to look back at Ed. He really should have guessed, he supposed, but he certainly hadn't understood—the kid was fourteen, why was he thinking about things like sleeping with his male superior officer?—and now it made a sick kind of sense.

"Hinze… violated you," he said aloud, as delicately as he could; the words were heavy on his tongue. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ed wince, and his arms holding the plate trembled a little. There was no nod, but that was confirmation enough. And with it went the implicit suggestion that Ed certainly had had no say in the matter when it had happened.

Breakfast suddenly didn't look so appetizing. Roy glared at his scrambled eggs for long moment before forcing himself to maneuver a forkful into his mouth. Ed stood there, as if waiting for something, and Roy was on his third bite before he noticed Ed balancing the plate on one hand and eating with the other, still standing. Roy set his fork down and looked at Ed, nonplussed, and blond looked up as if he felt his gaze.

"Why don't you sit down?" Roy ventured; cautiously, for he wasn't quite sure anymore of his standing with this boy he apparently didn't know enough about.

Ed blinked, looked surprised, and looked to the second chair at the table. His brow furrowed and he glanced back up to Roy curiously. "At… the table?" Ed queried, and Roy quirked an eyebrow.

"Where else?"

Ed looked down again as his cheeks flushed. "Hinze… didn't always let me… sit at the table," he explained in a voice near a whisper, and the tension in his shoulders was back.

Roy closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, his lips tightly pursed. "You're allowed to sit at this table." He reopened his eyes to see Ed warily moving forward, plopping down into the chair, and staring at Roy like he might suddenly strike. Roy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing his muscles to relax and for the anger to flow out of his veins—it wasn't directed towards Ed anyway.

"Ed," he began bracingly, and instantly the blond was on high alert again, looking ready to bolt if necessary. "It's okay," Roy said hastily. "I'm not—don't compare me to Hinze. I'm not going to hurt you like he did. I'm not going to hit you and I've never slept with anyone who didn't give full consent. I'd certainly not start by raping"—the boy flinched hard at the word—"you. You're safe from me." Roy paused, and another thought occurred to him. "There's a lock on your bedroom door. If it helps, you can lock it at night."

Ed blinked twice at him, stared, and nodded slowly. He relaxed into his chair again, but Roy saw how forced the movement was: no matter what Roy might say, Ed wasn't prepared to give trust like that quite yet.

Golden eyes lowered to the plate, and Ed slowly began to eat, stealing quick glances at Roy that the Colonel pretended not to see. Then the blond paused, looking thoughtfully at his plate and then over to Roy's, fingering a piece of bacon. Roy could feel the question almost before it was asked.

"Do you—" Ed began, but Roy was already shaking his head.

"I'm a vegetarian," he said, calling back on the familiar excuse. Ed gave him a strange look at glanced at his plate again, which reminded Roy of the scrambled eggs settled incriminatingly on the plate. "Of a sort," Roy amended. "It's complicated."

Ed nodded, not so much accepting as not willing to question; he munched absently on the bacon that was noticeably absent from Roy's own plate, and breakfast went on in silence.

* * *

><p>They managed to hedge around each other for most of the day without much contact, and nearing four o'clock in the afternoon Ed disappeared completely, holing up in his room after too long a time trying to deal with contact induced tension. Practically the moment he was gone, Roy pulled a bottle of scotch from a cupboard in the kitchen and took one gulp to take the edge off his nerves.<p>

Attempting to coexist calmly with Ed was going to be a very different challenge than he'd thought. The kid was haunted beyond belief; Roy's fingers itched to snap and he probably would have burned something already had he been wearing his gloves, pretending it could be General Hinze's face…

The phone rang, and Roy started slightly. With a sigh, he crossed the kitchen and picked it up. "Roy Mustang."

"Yo, Roy." It was Maes, and his voice didn't sound chipper as usual. "Did you ever look at the medical report for Ed?"

"No," Roy admitted, instantly on guard and cursing himself. Wimp, he berated himself, he should have done whatever he had to, never mind any pain it caused to his heart. "Should I have?"

"Ah, well, it could certainly provide some insights you might find necessary for looking after him," Maes said, a strange quality in his tone. "I just read it."

"And?"

"Well, it was a pretty vicious attack, as you know, and then something kind of jumped out at me. Really awful, actually. I just…" Maes trailed off, and Roy gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the fear igniting somewhere in his stomach. Maes didn't often waffle about with words, and the fact that he was doing so now didn't bode well for Ed.

"What is it?"

A short silence, then: "Rectal tearing. Damage that points to harsh treatment… He was raped, Roy. And the brutality of that act alone would have been enough to send him to the hospital."

Roy stood in silence, feeling much older than twenty-eight, and pulled over a chair so he could fall into the seat. "I already knew that," he said tiredly, massaging the bridge of his nose.

"You did?" Maes said, sounding surprised. "He just went out and told you?"

"As good as," Roy said wryly. "Last night—I'm guessing Hinze messed with his head enough to make him associate any kind of guardian to the treatment Hinze gave him. Ed basically flat out asked me if I was going to rape him just before I was about to go to bed. Found out this morning the reasoning behind it and just wanted to murder that bastard."

"He asked you—" Maes choked.

"Yes," Roy confirmed steadily. "He's got some problems that I'm not necessarily sure I can help him with, thanks to what Hinze did."

"He's got to talk to someone. A psychologist, a counselor, something."

Roy shook his head, though he knew his friend couldn't see it. "He wouldn't take kindly to that. I'll bring it up, but the best I can do is try to convince him that he's safe here."

"That's probably what he needs the most right now anyway." Maes went silent on the other end for a while before letting out a puffy sigh that caused a rush of static over the phone. "Take care of him, Roy."

"I will."

"I know. Oh, and on the hospital's behalf I'm hounding you about changing his bandages. You know he needs it with a wound like that."

"I know; I'll help him with it soon. Good bye."

"Good luck."

Roy hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment, mouth a tight line. Part of him was wondering what terrible things he could do to Hinze if he were within reach and another part was fiercely protective of this boy who'd been brutalized by his own stepfather—and yet another part was wondering where on earth the protective instinct came from but somehow wasn't surprised.

_Good luck_, Maes had said.

Roy had a feeling he was going to need it.

He trekked up the stairs and paused outside Ed's room before raising his hands and tapping his knuckles on the door. "Ed? Your bandage needs to be changed. Will you open the door?" He supposed he could just open it himself, but giving Ed his own space seemed a more important thing, especially if it ensured cooperation.

It didn't take long for the knob to turn and the door to open partially, leaving Ed staring up at him nervously. The boy's body blocked the door and the set of his shoulders was tense; whether he meant to send the message or not, Roy understood that he wasn't going to be allowed into the room except by pulling rank as his superior and guardian. He took a step backwards to clear the way into the hall, and Ed slipped through the doorway and shut the door behind him.

"The bandages are in my room," Roy said. Ed's eyes widened fractionally and terror flashed across his face at the implication they'd both be entering the older man's bedroom; Roy hastily added, "I'll get them, you can go down to the front room. Sit down on a couch or something, I'll be down soon."

A small huff of relief escaped the teen and he practically scampered down the stairs as if to flee before Roy changed his mind. The Colonel shook his head slightly and closed his eyes, taking one steadying breath before moving into his room. He collected the bandages and medicine necessary and went downstairs to meet Ed.

The blond was sitting patiently on the couch. He'd been surprisingly obedient, surprisingly _quiet_, throughout the whole day, and Roy would have been thankful if he hadn't understood why that was. He settled onto the same couch, on the opposite end, and set the bandages between them.

"Ed, could you take off your shirt?" Roy said softly. He was reluctant to ask, and he got exactly the reaction he expected: Ed stiffened instantly and scooted away slightly, throwing him a terrified look. "I'm not going to do anything," Roy promised, "but your wound is on your torso and we need to change the bandage."

Ed stared at him for only a moment more before turning away to stare at the floor. He didn't say anything, and Roy was about to ask again when the blond alchemist finally moved, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling the short-sleeved one over his head. The long sleeved shirt rode up a little on his stomach, revealing a bit of the bandage, but fell back into place as he set the short-sleeved shirt on the floor by his feet. He reached for the hem of the second shirt as well, but his hands were trembling and he didn't do more than grip the fabric hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Ed," Roy said softly, and the boy flinched and began to lift his shirt, but he stopped almost instantly and shoved it back down. His eyes were squeezed shut and he almost seemed to be hyperventilating.

Roy backed off the offensive and moved instead to soothe. "It's okay," he promised, "I'm not going to hurt you. You can calm down. I'm not going to rush you, but your bandage does need to be changed or else you have to go back to the hospital."

Slowly, golden eyes opened again, and stared wide-eyed at Roy. He shook his head slightly, his hands twisting at the hem of his shirt. "I can't," he choked. "Please… please don't…" Roy unthinkingly moved to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Ed slipped right off the couch and scrambled away with a whimper.

This is what Maes should be here for, Roy thought bitterly. Because he might have had a chance, but there was no way Roy would be able to get near enough to help with the bandages without giving Ed a coronary. Quickly, he revised his options, but there weren't many. He definitely wasn't helping Ed directly.

"I have an idea," Roy said soothingly, remaining on the other side of the room. "How about I stay over here and you do the bandages yourself. I'll just make sure you do it right. I won't touch you, okay, Ed?"

He kept his voice steady and calming, like he was talking to a wild animal. It seemed to do the trick; Ed wasn't shaking quite as hard and was even standing up. The golden eyes slid over to the bandages sitting innocently on the couch, and then Ed sent a furtive, nervous glance over to Roy, sitting less than a foot away from the bandages. Feeling that this was getting quite ridiculous, Roy moved away from the couch and sat on a padded armchair near the fireplace.

Ed sidled over to the couch and sat back down where he'd been sitting before, not taking his eyes off Roy. Again his fingers twisted in the fabric at the hem of his shirt and in one quick movement he pulled it over his head, like if he hesitated he wouldn't be able to—which was very possibly true.

Roy made a conscious effort not to let his gaze linger on Ed's now-naked chest, instead watching his face resolutely. Not that he swung that way, especially with _Ed_, but it was his habit to do a personal inventory for injuries. This time, that wasn't an option.

Ed's torso was bandaged from the middle of his ribs to his belly button. He glanced nervously up at Roy, seeming to take slight heart when he saw the older man's eyes trained solely on his face. The boy relaxed, though only ever-so slightly, and reached to begin unwinding the bandages warily.

As far as wounds went, it was looking pretty well for having almost taken Ed's life seven weeks ago. Ed reached for the medicine and dabbed it on the wound himself before moving on to bandage the gauze onto his body. His fingers were quite nimble with it, actually, and Roy controlled his features not to grimace as he thought of why that might be so—how many times had he needed to care for wounds inflicted by his stepfather?

The only problem was that he couldn't reach fully around his back without wincing almost imperceptibly in pain. "Does that hurt you?" Roy ventured, and Ed started and stared up at him before guiltily sliding his gaze away again.

"It's fine," he muttered, but Roy rather thought it was his need for distance that made him say so.

"You winced," Roy explained, rising from the armchair. "Do you need help?"

"No!" Ed panicked, pressing his back against the couch. "I'm fine!"

Roy held up his hands in a placating gesture; the blond was almost hyperventilating but gradually calmed his breathing as Roy made no move forward. And then the older man _did_ take a timid step forward, nearly setting Ed off again.

"I will not touch you," Roy promised. "But you need help, or you have to go back to the hospital."

Ed trembled, but didn't move a muscle as Roy slowly approached. Golden eyes stretched to the size of dinner plates and breathing seemed to be a distant memory.

"Please sit forward so I can reach around for the bandages," Roy said softly. Obediently, Ed scooted forward, cringing away as Roy stretched a hand forward. The Colonel was careful not to so much as brush his hand against the boy's skin as he wound the bandage carefully. When he reached the end, he let Ed tie it off and then handed him back the long-sleeved shirt. Ed snatched it up and brought it over his head, then pulled his second shirt over that one. Two shirts—Roy was admittedly a little curious about that, it seemed like it might have something to do with his reluctance to be undressed; two shirts took longer to remove than one shirt, after all.

Ed stood up quickly from the couch and scampered to the other side of the room before glancing up to the stairs, then staring at Roy nervously. Waiting for something.

"Yes?" Roy asked, keeping his voice neutral and as approachable as possible.

The boy bit his lip. Rocked back and forth on his feet. Fixed his gaze firmly on the floor. "May I… go to my room?" he whispered.

Roy blinked. Then realized. "You don't need my permission to go to your room, Edward," he assured, and didn't miss the surprise in Ed's expression at the announcement. "And, also, remember what I said during breakfast. You're welcome to lock your door if that makes you feel more secure. You're safe here."

Ed stared, still gnawing his lip and nodded slowly. He still didn't seem much convinced by Roy's proclamation; how many times would it need to be said before he actually believed that he was safe here? However many times that might be, Roy would say it. Again and again, if necessary.

As if reaching a decision, the blond boy bolted for the stairs, his braid being the last thing in sight as it too whipped up after him. Roy was taken aback at the abrupt retreat, then made himself relax and look towards his dark, sooty fireplace. He should light it, that might chase away the gloom. But he really didn't have the energy to stay up long enough to enjoy it…

Massaging tired eyes, Roy stood and retired to his own room. He needed some sleep, and could only hope it would be devoid of dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>And there is chapter three for you, wonderful readers. Thanks for dropping by in this tiny little corner of , please leave a review if you feel so inclined. Constructive criticism is much appreciated and will be brought into consideration.<strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	4. IV

**And chapter four. I feel all smart for actually keeping this on schedule so far... (Generally speaking my consistency is questionable at best.)**

**Onto the story! Oh, and yes, I totally own FMA... (NOT)**

* * *

><p>It was one in the morning when the screaming shattered Roy's pleasantly dreamless sleep. He bolted upright and nearly fell out of the bed in a tangle of sheets; after a brief wrestling match with the bedclothes he managed to lunge for his door and throw it open, lurching down the hall while still half asleep. The screaming curdled his blood, the sensation worsened with the realization that it was coming from <em>behind Ed's door<em>.

Roy turned the knob to get to Ed, but his breath froze in his chest—he rattled the knob again, but it was the same result. Ed had taken him up on his offer from the day before and had locked his door.

"Shit," he muttered. Two options: get through the door anyway and find the reason for Ed screaming bloody murder, and very possibly break any fragile trust he'd managed to build, or remain where he was and let Ed suffer in the throes of his terror alone.

He compromised, banging on the door. "Ed?" he called through the door. "Are you awake?"

The screaming stopped, trailing off into dry, gasping sobs that Roy was sure Ed didn't want him to hear. Slowly, those too quieted, and Roy tapped on the door again softly. "Ed?" he murmured. There was no response, but in the silence his ears picked up breathing just on the other side of the door, breathing too heavy for a relaxed person. Ed was awake, but he didn't want to talk.

Roy waited for a while longer, but Ed did not unlock the door and did not speak. Did not acknowledge that Roy was right there on the other side of the door should Ed need him. And maybe he didn't. Or maybe he just couldn't ask.

"I'll be in my room if you need me," Roy said softly, waited a few moments for a response that wasn't forthcoming, and then returned to his own room. Thirty seconds after he'd shut his own door, he heard the one down the hall open. He sat on his bed and waited yet again, but there was no knock and no sliver of light from the door being opened. Instead, another door opened and closed, and it was only when he could hear the spray of water hitting the shower floor that Roy realized Ed was in the bathroom situated between their two rooms.

Roy didn't stay awake for long, despite the worries that plagued him on behalf of his new charge, and he fell asleep to the sound of water washing away the nightmare's demons.

* * *

><p>Roy wasn't sure what woke him the second time that night. It was silent, and there was no sixth sense snarling at him of danger. He glanced at the clock by his bed—three in the morning. He'd only been sleeping for two hours since Ed's screaming stole his sleep.<p>

And unless his ears deceived him, the shower was still running. Why would Ed need a shower for that long?

Roy sat up and slipped out of bed and into the hall, stopping outside the bathroom door. Yes, the shower was definitely still on. He tried the doorknob and was surprised to note that it was unlocked. Ed was being careless: either he was still inside and had forgotten to lock the door, or he was in his own room now and had forgotten to turn off the shower. As it had been two hours, Roy was leaning toward the latter possibility, but on the off chance that Ed _was _inside, he certainly didn't think the boy would take well to an intrusion, no matter how well-intentioned.

He tapped the door sharply. "Edward, are you in there?" he called quietly. There was no response, and Roy didn't wait more than a few moments before opening the door and looking inside.

Nothing seemed particularly out of place, but Roy noted that the shower curtain was closed and Ed's clothes, the same ones he'd worn that day, were on the floor by the toilet. The towels were still hanging neatly on the bar set into the wall. Ed was still inside—or so the evidence seemed to suggest.

"Ed?" Roy called again, a little louder, but again there was no answer. Well, if Ed _was_ in here, he'd just forfeited his rights to privacy. As his guardian, Roy did have a right to know where he was at all times. He steeled himself as he moved across the tiled bathroom floor and curled his fingers around the edge of the shower curtain before pulling it open.

Ed was curled against the side of the tub, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his eyes squeezed shut. He didn't seem to notice that Roy was there. The water still pounded onto his naked body from the showerhead. The knob had been turned all the way to heat, and though the hot water had long since run out and the spray was now frigid, the red, blotchy skin on Ed's shoulders and arms told the tale of scalding water before it had cooled. He was shaking, but Roy had the distinct impression it wasn't from the temperature of the shower.

"Ed," he said softly, trying to ignore the tearing pangs of his heart as he took in the scene. The blond boy didn't seem to hear and didn't so much as open his eyes. Changing tactics, Roy snagged a towel from the bar set in the wall, then reached over and shut the water off. The absence of the spray finally seemed to drag Ed back into reality, and he blinked up, cringing away when he saw Roy standing there.

"Please don't," Ed whispered, "please…"

"I'm not going to hurt you," Roy soothed, and unfurled the towel to let it hang from his hands. "Come get dry."

After several moments of disoriented blinking, Ed got unsteadily to his feet. He stared at the proffered towel but didn't reach for it. Words formed on his lips, but no sound escaped him. Rather than reaching for the towel, he turned the knob again to turn the water back on. Roy turned it off just as quickly, and Ed shied away from his hand.

"Got to get clean, got to get clean," Ed chanted under his breath. "I'm all… all dirty…"

"You've been in here for two hours, Ed. You're not dirty," Roy said firmly, and shook the towel lightly to beckon Ed out of the shower.

The boy's lower lip was trembling and his golden eyes closed again. He wrapped his arms around himself and swayed slightly. "I'm dirty," he whispered fiercely, with enough conviction to make Roy wonder. "He… he… Hinze made me… dirty…"

Roy's throat closed and he couldn't have gotten out a comforting word even if he'd known what to say. Slowly, he shook his head and gave the towel another slight shake. "Come on, Ed," he managed when he could speak again. "It's time to get out of the shower."

Ed didn't move, instead staring at the bottom of the tub. He was shivering, whether from cold or from fear or from something else entirely Roy didn't know, but the older man figured it could only be helped by the slight security of the towel. Reaching over awkwardly, he brought the towel around the blond's shoulders, ignoring the flinch the action brought about.

Almost instantly, Ed's hands fisted around the fabric, pulling it close around him. Roy moved to touch his shoulder, but Ed stepped away and squeezed his eyes shut. The boy didn't seem so much deliberately panicky as simply in shock; it was like he was sleepwalking, reacting to Roy's movements but not going through undue distress of such. A second, slower move towards Ed was met with another step away.

"Edward," Roy said softly. "It's just me. I'm not going to hurt you. You need to get back to your room, _alone_," he added before the words could make it to Ed's brain and set him off again, "and get some sleep." He hesitated. Ed still wasn't responding to him. Physical contact would cause distress, but he wasn't listening…

"I am going to touch your shoulder," Roy said clearly, and slowly reached a hand out. Ed's gaze snapped upward and stared at him with wide eyes. "You don't have to be afraid, that's all I will do," the Colonel promised. "I'm just helping you get out of the tub without slipping and falling."

Success. That was Roy's instant thought when he managed to lay a gentle hand on Ed's towel-clad shoulder with only a small flinch in response; warning the blond must have helped. Ed didn't pull away, but he kept his eyes trained on the hand resting on his flesh shoulder as if to make sure it didn't do anything untoward—which was probably the actual motivation, Roy realized absently.

"Come on. Step out of the tub." The older man moved to the side, shifting his grip on Ed's shoulder to balance him as the boy stepped unsteadily out of the treacherously slippery bath. Ed huddled deeper into the towel wrapped around his shoulders and let Roy guide him out of the bathroom and into the hallway. The door to his room was still open, and the Colonel stepped aside to allow Ed to walk past.

"Ed," he said softly, just as Ed was turning to close the door between them. The blond paused and blinked at him. "Did you have a nightmare? Was that it?" Roy asked cautiously, testing the waters.

Ed swallowed and nodded jerkily, his eyes flashing with fear. The automail was held in a fist so tight it must have been impossible for a flesh hand to do the same, and Roy had a flash of curiosity wondering if the fabric of the towel would come out unscathed from such a grip.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Roy asked him.

"No." The golden eyes squeezed shut and Ed drew in a shaky breath and shook his head determinedly back and forth several times. "Never. I don't want… to remember."

Roy nodded. "Okay," he said indulgently. Pushing would get them exactly nowhere very fast. There was a time and a place to approach and back off, and while Roy had never gotten himself into a situation like this before, he wasn't a Colonel so young for no reason at all. "Good night," he told the boy softly. Ed nodded disconsolately in return and closed the door. Just before he was shut out, Roy added, "Sleep tight."

The lock snicked into place and there was no response. Roy didn't wait for one, turning to finally get a few more hours of shut-eye in the privacy of his own room. One last thought flickered around his head before surrendering to his exhaustion.

_Don't let the nightmares bite._

* * *

><p>The next morning again found Roy up before his younger charge and making breakfast of eggs and toast for both—with bacon enough for only one—just like the morning before. Ed shuffled warily into the kitchen at about eight o'clock and accepted the proffered plate without looking Roy in the face, keeping his eyes trained on the floor, before standing awkwardly by the counter. The Colonel reflected that this could be a pattern in the making and wondered if that would be a good thing or a bad thing.<p>

Roy sat down at the table and noted that Ed was still standing, though eyeing the chair he'd sat in yesterday edgily. "You don't need my permission to sit down," the older man reminded him, and the blond instantly scooted over and sat, looking almost content. Well, as content as he'd been since coming to this house.

They ate breakfast in silence; Ed didn't seem inclined to speaking at all, as evidenced by the sparseness of his comments throughout his stay here so far, and was much more focused on eating the breakfast set before him. He finished before his guardian did, looked awkwardly at his empty plate, twisted over to look at the sink, and then glanced nervously at Roy. The Colonel continued eating his own breakfast, trying to lull Ed into calm, and it seemed to work, at least partially. Ed rose slowly to his feet, his left hand gripping the edge of the plate probably harder than necessary.

Roy casually glanced up at him and Ed froze guiltily, but Roy made a point of going back to his breakfast without staring for more than a moment. Slowly, the boy unfroze and made his way to the trashcan to scrape off what little he hadn't eaten and then took the plate to the sink. Roy emptied his water glass and stood himself to refill it.

Ed actually took the time to rinse the plate off, Roy noted curiously. He would have branded the blond as the type to leave dirty dishes to pile up in the sink until the kitchen was no longer visible. Ed took the clean plate out of the sink and went to turn around.

"Excuse me," Roy said, from where he'd been standing behind Ed for use of the sink, but apparently he'd been silent getting here from the table and had gone undetected by the room's only other occupant. Ed started so hard he dropped the plate, which fell to the tiled flooring and shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. Roy winced on behalf of the dish but his reaction had nothing on Ed's. The blond _eeped_ and was instantly terrified. Concerned, Roy reached out a hand for comfort, but Ed flinched away with wide eyes and raced out of the kitchen before Roy could so much as blinked.

The Colonel was left standing in an empty kitchen with shards of the former plate scattered haphazardly around. He had two options: cleaning up the plate or going to find and calm Edward. It was a matter of priorities.

He picked a careful path through the glass shards and managed to get out of the kitchen without stepping on anything sharp enough to hurt.

Ed was hovering nervously by the door, but when Roy came through he took flight again; though the Colonel would have expected a tactical retreat upstairs to the safety of his room, Ed scrambled away from him into the corner of the main living area, the farthest the blond could be from the stairs and still actually be able to see them. His back was pressed against the wall and he looked on with nothing short of terror as Roy approached, doing his best to seem both authoritative and soothing. The success of the attempt couldn't have been too great, as there was no outward change in Ed's emotions.

"Edward—" Roy was finally close enough to touch Ed, and he gently brushed his hand against the boy's shoulder. Shaking knees finally gave out at the movement interpreted to be aggressive, and Ed slumped to the floor with a wordless cry of fear.

"Please don't hurt me, I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he begged frantically. Roy crouched down in alarm and shook his head quickly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assured. His promise had no calming effect; Ed whimpered and tried to cringe further away, raising his hands in front of him in a feeble attempt to protect himself. Firmly, but gently, Roy grasped both wrists and pulled them away. Ed jerked and flinched, but the Colonel didn't release him.

"Please, no, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—"

"Ed, it's just a plate," Roy finally said harshly. Ed started and fell silent, keeping his head down and glancing at Roy in apprehension. "It's just a plate," the Colonel repeated. "I'm not angry at you. You were frightened and I came to make sure you're alright. I'm not going to hurt you, it's just a plate, I don't _care_."

Golden eyes gleamed with indecision and still flinched when Roy reached out to pat Ed's shoulder comfortingly. "You're safe here," Roy vowed, and finally pulled the boy into a hug.

Ed _eeped_ again and trembled in fear, but Roy didn't let go. The Colonel didn't pet his hair or even pat his shoulder, knowing that even a simple movement like that could be taken as dangerous movements onto the sexual front. But he did hold him close and murmur quiet words, variations of "You're okay, Edward, it's just a plate, I'm not going to hurt you, you're safe," that almost completely drowned out Ed's whispered pleas for mercy.

Despite Roy's efforts, it was a long while before Ed actually calmed and stopped shaking. The boy kept his sniffles at an absolute minimum, apparently embarrassed by his fear, and tried to pull away from Roy's embrace; the older man didn't dare, release him, however.

"It's okay," he murmured again, and Ed hunched his shoulders slightly as his cheeks colored. Roy noted the change with something between curiosity and amusement. Was he actually properly embarrassed? It would seem so.

"I'm fine now," Ed said quietly. "You can let go. I'm not going to freak out or anything." Cautiously, Roy loosened his hold, and then let his arms fall to his sides and prop him up more comfortably against the floor. Ed didn't quite meet his eyes, the pink blush still dusting his cheeks. "Sorry," he said quietly. Roy frowned and opened his mouth, and Ed hastened to add, "Not about the plate. Uh, well, I guess I'm sorry for that too, but… you're not going to hit me for that…" He eyed the older man again after the statement, seeming to check if his assessment of the situation was correct, and Roy nodded to make it clear.

Ed looked away and down at the floor, rocking back and forth slightly. His lips parted and his mind scrambled for words, but he finally let the air out in an explosive sigh. "I must be such a pain to take care of," Ed muttered bitterly. "Sorry you have to do this. D'you draw the short straw?" He shifted his body weight and got to his feet, folding his arms across his chest and glaring at nothing in particular. Himself, if his eyes could have allowed it.

After getting to his own feet, Roy grasped Ed by the shoulder. There was only the smallest of flinches this time, and it almost seemed Ed was free of his crippling fear of contact, but the Colonel didn't hold much hope that it would last.

"I did not draw the short straw," Roy said firmly, and Ed looked at him skeptically. "You needed someone to take care of you. I made the most sense, and I agreed."

Ed's shoulders hunched further, and he cast his glare briefly over to Roy. "What do you want?" he demanded. Roy blinked and Ed snarled at him. "_What do you want_? No one gets anything for nothing. I stay here, what do you want? Hinze did _that_ to me every night he wasn't drunk enough or tired enough to forget, and that was my price. What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything," Roy said quietly. "You simply needed a place to stay. That's here. I'm not asking anything else of you."

Ed's gaze didn't waver. "Nothing? Oh, come on, you're Colonel _Bastard_—I mean—" Suddenly, Ed's brave streak vanished and Ed cringed away, expecting retribution for the foul language.

Roy didn't react, except to say, "I don't want anything from you. Oh, and back on the topic of the plate, why are you so worried about it breaking when you could just put it back together with alchemy?"

Apparently he'd hit a sore spot; Ed winced, but not fully from fear. "Hinze didn't like alchemy," he said softly. "After I got my automail, he… told me not to use it, and when I… did…" He gulped.

"He beat you for it?" Roy speculated flatly. Ed bobbed his head timidly; whatever had possessed him to previously treat Roy as he had before, when he was only a commanding officer, had flown away and had again left a shell of a boy in its wake. "Well, I'm an alchemist too, remember? I don't care if you do alchemy, although I'd appreciate it if you didn't tear the house apart."

Ed blinked at him and nodded slowly. "Okay." He shuffled indecisively where he stood, then asked, "Do you want me to go fix the plate?"

Roy wasn't sure if Ed was asking permission or seeing if it was an order. "I'd appreciate it if you did," he said finally, and Ed nodded as if this were the answer he'd been looking for and set off for the kitchen.

Roy's head swiveled to watch him go and he sat back on his heels with a sigh. He _thought_ anger was a good sign, but he couldn't be sure. Why did everyone seem to think he was the best one to take care of Edward when he was the last person who would have any idea what to do?

There was a clap in the kitchen and Roy leaned over to peek in the kitchen doorway. Ed was crouched on the tile with his hands held over the glass shards of the plate; the muted blue lightning mended the glass into an unbroken plate again and Ed stood to set it carefully on the countertop by the sink. Without further ado, Ed slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, most likely to recover from such an incident so early in the morning. Roy couldn't honestly say that he wasn't grateful for the gesture. He needed time too.

* * *

><p>Roy woke from Ed's screaming again that night.<p>

Again he found him an hour and a half later still in the shower.

The Colonel fell asleep into visions of blood, fire and sand after that.

* * *

><p><strong>Why do I feel like that was too short? Oh well, next one's longer. If you liked the chapter, drop a line!<br>Reviews = much motivation. Also, it was my birthday last week! XD**

****Randomness: I believe I am getting far too little sleep as of late. Just the other day in English we were discussing To Kill a Mockingbird and I started considering how one would go about making a Fullmetal Alchemist/To Kill a Mockingbird crossover... ? I think I may be going a little bit crazy.****

**Thanks for reading!**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	5. V

**Still amazed by the review count... XD Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! I hope you like this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: American here. Not Japanese, sadly... do the math.**

* * *

><p>Maes lounged on the couch in the private office, looking for all the world to be the most relaxed person within a mile radius. He had his feet kicked up casually on the cushions, one hand behind his head and the other hanging down and swinging like a pendulum, fingers brushing against the carpet.<p>

He was the only one in the office until its actual owner opened the door; Roy was only slightly surprised to find his long-time friend had invited himself in.

"You're here early, Maes," the Colonel noted casually. He closed the door and settled in at his desk, meeting the spectacled gaze that had followed him from the door.

Maes didn't bother commenting on the observation. "How's Ed?" he asked instead. He didn't get an immediate answer, but by the vaguely dismayed and frustrated expression that fought its way to the surface for just a moment, Maes could tell the assessment wouldn't exactly be glowing.

"Flighty," Roy said finally, rummaging in his desk for a pen and, once it was unearthed, staring at it disconsolately. "Jumpy. The kid flinches whenever I so much as move. He doesn't shout or do anything obnoxious, doesn't even screw around with alchemy really—he got mad at me yesterday for maybe half a minute, and I'm almost thinking that was a good sign. But trying to develop any kind of trust as his guardian is like pulling teeth."

"Glad to see you think trust is so important," Maes noted, one eyebrow cranking upward like a drawbridge, "because to be honest, you never seemed to think much of it before. In fact, I seem to recall back when Ed first joined up I told you that earning his trust might be good, and you brushed me off."

Roy's face darkened into a scowl. "That was when I assumed he'd be out within the year, once he realized that the military wasn't the cushy lifestyle his stepfather might make it look like. We didn't even know Al's armor was empty for six months."

Maes finally sat up and stretched, his feet sliding to the floor with a thump. He pulled a small square of paper from within his jacket and unfolded it, his eyes skimming what was written there. "Speaking of Al, he's still missing. No leads, no hints. The last anyone saw of him is when he and Ed walked out of here that Friday evening before going home—well, except for Ed and Hinze themselves, but they don't seem to be talking. In all likelihood, Hinze is the one at fault—"

"Of _course_ he's the one at fault," Roy snapped, "anyone could see that!"

Maes held up a hand patiently. "There's no hard evidence. I agree with you, Roy," he added as the Colonel opened his mouth to argue again, "but the fact is that there's not enough to actually convince anyone who isn't already biased towards Hinze's guilt and Ed's innocence."

Roy slumped in his chair and glared heatedly at his paperwork. "So there's absolutely no clue to where a seven foot suit of armor went? No witnesses?"

"None," Maes confirmed. "It's possible he ran, but I don't think he would. This is Al we're talking about; if Ed's life were actually in danger the way it was, he would have done something. He was put out of action beforehand. And we've also been looking for significant amounts of extra metal, in case the armor was transmuted into something less obviously incriminating."

The Colonel almost managed a grin at that one. "Nice to see you know what you're working with. Any luck?"

Maes shook his head dejectedly. "The trail's long since gone cold. The only reason we know something happened to Alphonse Elric _at all_ is the fact that, well, he's not here."

There was a brief moment of dejected silence in the office until Roy let out an explosive sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut. "Well, no luck in that department. I'm sure Ed has more information on it, I'm just slightly… disinclined… to bring it up."

Maes shot him a baleful look. "If you think he's got any idea, you should speak to him." Roy opened his mouth to protest, but the Lieutenant Colonel cut him off. "Roy, I know he'd not in good shape now, but don't you think he'll be that much better if we manage to get Al back to him?"

The Colonel's jaw clicked shut and he found himself sadly unable to glare at Maes in the face of what he knew to be the truth. Finally, he surrendered. "Fine. I'll talk to him tonight. I'm not pressing the issue too hard, mind you," he warned, "but I'll certainly bring it up."

Maes nodded, satisfied. "That should be good enough."

Roy grunted. "For Ed, for you, or for Al?"

"All of us, hopefully."

* * *

><p>When his Lieutenant came in a quarter to eleven with a new batch of paperwork, Roy wasn't surprised that she hesitated at his desk. He'd been expecting the question much sooner and was almost mystified by the teams' surprising patience for an answer.<p>

"Sir. Is Edward's condition looking up?" Riza asked, keeping her posture professional even as a softer tone slipped into her voice.

Roy had to consider before answering. "His wounds aren't worsening, and they'll heal soon enough. He has an additional four weeks of medical leave, if you remember, and you'll be able to see for yourself how well he's doing then."

He didn't miss the slight frown that tugged at the corner of Riza's mouth. "You know I don't mean physically. I know his body will heal, but what about his mind? His heart?"

Roy couldn't help himself from rubbing his face with one hand. It was so hard to pretend everything was going to be alright when he honestly had no idea, and worry flashed in Riza's brown eyes as she saw his mask slip, revealing what went on underneath.

"He's not beyond hope," Roy said finally, hoping he was right. "But he's still got a long way to go."

Riza nodded, and then snapped back to attention. Back to subordinate and superior, away from the friends they were besides. She nodded sharply and cast a pointed glare onto the stack of fresh paperwork. Roy rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively, but the grimace he adopted showed that he got the point. The Lieutenant left the room, and Roy had no illusions that the team would be any more clueless than her as to Ed's condition by the time the lunch break rolled around.

* * *

><p>Roy actually finished his paperwork for the day, which made Lieutenant Hawkeye about as visibly shocked as she ever was and left the rest of the team slack-jawed. The Colonel brushed off their "concern" for his mental health with irritation and decided not to mention how great a distraction paperwork was from the gnawing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He wondered briefly if it had been such a good idea to leave Ed alone so soon, but he'd be alright… right?<p>

No, the Flame Alchemist wasn't speed walking down the sidewalk, he was only strolling. After all, he wasn't in any particular hurry to get home and ensure Ed was okay. Really.

For someone who'd manipulated his way to his current rank, Roy was pretty awful at lying to himself.

He fumbled with the lock on his front door and pushed open the door, half-expecting to see utter pandemonium left in the wake of the Fullmetal Alchemist. But there wasn't, not exactly.

That wasn't to say he recognized his own home.

He blinked almost stupidly as his eyes scanned the front room. It was decidedly uncluttered, although there was a neat little stack on one corner of the coffee table of several of the things that had previously been strewn across the room. There seemed to be a new shine to it all, as if someone had dusted the furniture and the mantle above the fireplace. Too clean… was this really his home?

Shuffling feet to his left, Roy turned, still dazed, and saw Ed walk out of the kitchen holding a rag. Suddenly, it clicked: Ed had cleaned while he was away. And then Roy found himself boggling over such a simple yet inconceivable notion—Ed _cleaning_.

Roy realized he was staring when Edward began shifting his wait from one foot to the other in a miniature nervous dance, his golden eyes darting around the room.

"You… cleaned…" Roy managed.

Ed gave him a look that said he'd definitely just stated the obvious and nodded slowly.

Roy blinked and looked over his room again. "Wouldn't have pegged you as the cleaning type," he murmured. "I—ah—thanks, I guess. It _has_ been getting a little cluttered; I've been meaning to tidy up."

Again, Ed shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "You're welcome," he said softly.

Roy nodded distractedly and peeked into the kitchen. Like the front room, it was spotless except for a small stack of items that Roy now realized Ed probably had no idea what to do with. Like bills, letters, his paperwork—was that his wallet? He's been looking for that. Roy picked up the worn bit of leather and flipped through it before tucking it into his coat pocket.

"Did you clean the whole house?" Roy murmured, not quite expecting Ed to hear but still not surprised when he got a reply after all.

"Most of it. Except your bedroom. And there really wasn't much to clean in the one you gave me to sleep in…" Roy wasn't sure if that was a jibe at sub-par living conditions or just a comment that suggested Ed was tidy in his personal space. Judging by the boy's current disposition, the Colonel figured it was the latter—and besides, Ed's room wasn't sub-par as far as living conditions went.

"Thank you," Roy said, still somewhat bemused by the fact that there was no longer any dust in the corner of the kitchen counters or on the top of the fridge. "How'd you get up there anyway?" the Colonel wondered aloud, and then closed his eyes reflexively for the rant that would follow. It never came. He cracked open his eyelids and glanced curiously over at Ed.

The blond was glaring at the floor, his shoulders hunched defensively. His mouth was a thin line; he looked upset, but no screaming rant pursued Roy. His subdued behavior was beginning to make Roy think that maybe he wasn't the same boy he'd seen walk into his office every day, that maybe the younger alchemist's fire was too covered to burn in life again…

"Wow, no response to a short joke?" Roy said lightly, playing off his concern as a joke.

"I'm not short," Ed protested, but it was a half-hearted objection at best, and it fell flat in the quiet kitchen.

Roy beckoned Ed to follow him out of the kitchen and gestured for him to sit down on the couch by the fireplace. "Time to change your bandages," he said by way of explanation, and left to get the necessary supplies. As always, he observed from across the room as Ed took off his shirt and dabbed the ointment on, then approached slowly (cautiously, because the blond was a frightened rabbit at times like this) and helped by winding the bandage around his torso. Ridges of muscle stood out tensely in his anxiety—once Roy brushed his fingers accidentally against the skin between his shoulder blades and Ed shrieked before batting his hands away. It was a good five minutes before they were able to finish the daily ritual, Ed still shaking in a mixture of embarrassment and residual fear.

Ed pulled on his shirt over the fresh bandages and scooted away towards the stairs, throwing a questioning glance to Roy. The Colonel just gave him a slight smile and raised his eyebrows. Ed shuffled uncertainly and set one foot on the stairs, watching his guardian for any response. Roy didn't react. His new motto: let alone what isn't certain. It certainly seemed to work for Ed, and the blond slowly crept up another two steps. Roy remained sitting on the couch. Taking this as implicit permission, the boy flashed up the remainder of the staircase and disappeared into his room.

Roy was meandering into the kitchen when the phone rang. He glared, but as the offending device jangled again he sighed and answered it.

"Roy Mustang."

"Yo, Roy!" came Maes' bubbly voice across the line.

Roy let out a rather annoyed sigh, not caring that Maes would definitely hear it. He didn't have the energy to put up with the man's babbling about his family at the moment. "What do you want, Maes?"

"Oh, come on! You know already!"

Roy actually thought for a moment, but drew up nothing except a rather large blank. "I do?"

"See, this is why I always have to call,"—Maes was whining now—"you always pretend to forget!"

Roy was still drawing a blank.

Maes gave a sigh to rival Roy's earlier expression of disappointment. "It's Monday night! Weekly dinner! Come on, throw together some casserole or something and come to mine and Gracia's!"

Ah, that was the memory that had been hovering out of his grasp. _Weekly dinners indeed_—they usually happened two or three times a week, whenever Maes could get his claws into Roy. Unfortunately, the Monday ones _were_ set in stone. "I have Ed to think of," he wheedled, playing the 'concerned guardian' card in efforts to escape the engagement.

"Exactly! Bring him over too, it'll be good for him!" Maes was entirely too jovial about the whole affair for Roy's liking, but there was nothing to be done for it.

"Fine," Roy grumbled. "I'll be over—"

"In half an hour," Maes interrupted him. "None of this crap where you come over at seven thirty and leave at eight, you're here in _half an hour_, here me? I'll sic Elysia's cuteness on you if you're not."

Roy closed his eyes and breathed slowly, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to bang his head against a wall. So the man _did_ know that his pictures were a source of fear… "Fine," the Colonel surrendered. "Does that mean I still have to make something?"

"Just throw together a casserole," Maes brushed off. "Won't take too long. Don't make my Gracia do _all_ the work, she's doing enough as it is—she's so _wonderful!_ You should get yourself a wife, you know, and maybe she'll be half as amazing as my Gracia."

"Maes!" Roy snapped. "I'll bring over a casserole in half an hour if you're going to bully me into it, but _at least_ lay off about the whole 'wife' talk."

Maes laughed—more of a giggle, actually, but Roy refused to acknowledge it as such (Maes was a _grown man_, for goodness sake). "Alright, Roy-boy, see you soon."

He hung up. Roy glared at the phone and contemplated the merits of incinerating the thing right then and there and decided it wasn't worth it after all. Now for the task of making the casserole—and, probably harder, convincing Ed to come with him. This should be… fun.

Note the sarcasm, of course.

* * *

><p>Roy wound up carrying the casserole over to the Hughes' household, Ed trailing close behind like a lost puppy. The boy's steps were staccato and nervous, and he had to step twice to match one of Roy's strides. The Colonel slowed down a little for him, hoping the blond didn't notice the change; if he did, he didn't say anything. But as nervous as he looked, Roy was quite sure Ed could take down anyone who tried attacking them at night on the streets. Whatever had been done to him, he was still the Fullmetal Alchemist.<p>

They reached the Hughes' home and Roy opened the door and stepped inside without bothering to knock. Ed hesitated at the threshold, then followed his guardian inside.

Elysia, coloring on the floor, squealed delightedly and toddled over to hug Roy's leg tightly. The Colonel looked ruefully down on the little girl, but couldn't honestly say he was surprised—this happened every time. Ed watched with a rather bemused expression as Elysia released the dark-haired man's leg and stretched her arms upward. "Up! Up, Uncle Roy!"

_She's humiliating you in front of Edward Elric_, Roy thought to himself scathingly, _are you going to allow that, Roy?_ "No, Elysia, I'm carrying the food—"

She stuck out her lower lip in a pout and sniffed once. The meager support behind Roy's resistance crumbled and he sighed in defeat. "Oh, fine," he grumbled, and he could swear he saw a smile threaten to break out on Ed's face as he watched the hard evidence of how thoroughly the youngest Hughes had the Colonel wrapped around her little finger.

Roy cast a look around for some place to put the casserole bowl and came up blank, except for Ed. He offered it to the blond and gave him an apologetic glance—Ed timidly stepped forward and took the bowl into his hands. At the sound of a second sniff from the toddler still on the floor, Roy turned and scooped her up.

Elysia squealed in delight. "Uncle Roy, you can carry me!"

"Yes, I can," Roy confided, "but will I?" Elysia began to pout again, but Roy rolled his eyes and decided to forgo a second helping of that particular persuasion technique tonight. "Yes, I will," he established, and turned to Ed to tell him they were going to the kitchen now. Elysia beat him to it.

"Ed! Ed! Uncle Roy, I want Ed!" The little girl was ecstatic, squirming in an attempt to get out of Roy's arms and into Ed's. She was a persistent little bugger when she put her mind to it, Roy reflected sourly as he tried to ensure the toddler didn't go toppling to the floor. Ed looked almost alarmed at the turn of events and Elysia practically leaped onto him as he tried to juggle the bowl of casserole—

The bowl crashed to the floor and casserole went everywhere. Ed was left with an armful of toddler, gripping Elysia tightly enough to convince Roy that he was dead-set on _not_ dropping her, too. The blond had a deer-in-the-headlights expression and glanced nervously at the scattered casserole, then at Roy, and back again, while Elysia hugged his neck and babbled excitedly.

Roy couldn't have said why, exactly, the scene struck him as funny in that moment, but he couldn't hold the laughter that burst out of his mouth. Ed stared like he'd begun spouting off alchemic theorems in Xingese, and Elysia twisted her little body around to watch him with a puzzled expression, but Roy couldn't stifle it. Ed's fear slowly seemed to dissipate as instead his cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. Maes and Gracia peeked into the room, Gracia smiling softly and Maes grinning like an idiot.

"You're cleaning this up, Roy-boy," Maes warned him, and strode into the room as Roy managed to get a grip on himself. As much as he'd been reluctant to come here, it seemed already like it was the best thing he could have done tonight: he felt lighter than he had in an age, since Ed wound up in that damn hospital, and with others around it seemed that he could watch over Ed without scaring him half to death with every movement.

Maes clapped Ed on the shoulder; he flinched, and there was no way the spectacled man didn't notice, but he ignored it completely and began steering him towards the kitchen. "Come on, Ed, my lovely Gracia will settle you into the kitchen. I'll help this one"—he shoved a thumb over his shoulder at Roy—"clean all this up."

Ed still looked rather lost, but seemed to be taking heart. Gracia was smiling at him and beckoned towards the kitchen; the blond followed with no hesitation and Roy wondered slightly at that, but was then distracted by wondering how much Gracia knew about the situation.

Maes crouched down to start scooping the casserole back into the bowl and motioned for Roy to join him. As soon as Roy was eyelevel with him, he started talking.

"I told Gracia everything I know about Ed's case, and she was hoping to be able to help him out some. You know, be the motherly part of whatever care he needs."

Roy nodded his thanks, but didn't explain quite how heartfelt that was. As stubbornly independent as he usually was, he _needed_ help when it came to Ed. "He's pretty jumpy and I'm not sure how he'll react during dinner," Roy added. "And before you ask, no, I haven't interrogated him about Al yet."

Maes' head bobbed up and down in a nod as he scooped another messy handful of ruined casserole into the bowl. "That's fine. So, I've been thinking, and Gracia has too, that the reason he reacts so badly to you is because you're his adult male guardian, all of which meets the same criteria that Hinze did."

"I thought we already established that," Roy growled softly. Maes was heading into dangerous territory; Roy didn't like being reminded of exactly why Ed was so terrified of him.

"Well, I meet two of those three criteria, so I'd imagine Ed's also fairly cautious around me. But I think he'd be a lot more likely to open up to Gracia, all things considered. I mean, she's a woman, and he freaks out every time you try to touch him, right? He'd have no reason to be that way towards Gracia."

Roy frowned, but he did understand what Maes was saying. "Alright. I can see that, but we'll have to wait and see to be sure."

"If it seems that way, Gracia will ask him about Al for you."

"That would be best, I think," Roy murmured, brushing the last of the casserole off of his hand and into the bowl. He looked down at the carpet and frowned at the stains they couldn't get out with their hands.

Maes caught his gaze and waved a flippant hand. "Oh, don't worry about it, Gracia will clean it—she's an angel!"

"So you've said a million times," Roy griped, and got to his feet.

They wandered into the kitchen, where Elysia was standing on a chair setting the table with the utensils and cutlery Ed was carefully handing to her; the blond boy was smiling slightly and almost looked happy for once. Gracia gracefully carried a pan of what looked like baked potatoes across the kitchen and set it on the table, pausing there to put a hand on Ed's shoulder. He didn't flinch away, instead looking up at her with a slight widening of his smile. Roy felt a pang of something he didn't expect—envy—as he saw that Gracia didn't cause the same panic that Roy did.

That was okay, he told himself. Ed had his reasons, he couldn't exactly help his fear…

The feeling didn't go away, but when Ed glanced up at the two men in the doorway, Roy made sure the slight frown on his face wasn't there to meet him. He smiled slightly instead. Though Ed visibly tensed when he noticed the men in the kitchen, he made an obvious effort to return the smile—but it was brief, and he turned back to Elysia quickly.

Dinner commenced. Maes had Gracia sit down in her chair first and sat down on her left, the head of the table; Ed shifted on his feet with a hand on the chair to her right, looking both anxious and hopeful. Gracia smiled at him, asked him to sit down, and the blond plopped happily onto the seat. Roy sat on Maes' other side, across from Gracia, and Elysia crawled up to sit in 'Uncle Roy's' lap.

Gracia talked a little with Ed, but he was much quieter than he had been before the whole fiasco with Hinze had been brought to light, and she couldn't quite manage to bait him into a full-fledged conversation.

"So, Edward, have you been doing alright at the Roy's home?" she asked kindly.

Ed stared with recently developed interest at his food, fiddling with his fork and pushing the mashed remains of his potatoes to and fro across the plate. He shrugged a little and made no move to speak.

Gracia glanced up at Roy in a questioning glance, and Roy gave a similar shrug, grimacing slightly to show his utter confusion. Then he nodded slightly, indicating that he _thought_ some good was occurring. Gracia nodded fractionally at him and looked down to watch Ed push his food around his plate in a rare show of lack of appetite.

"I'm sure you'll feel better once Al is found," Gracia supplied, and it escaped no one's notice except maybe Elysia's that Ed's shoulders stiffened before he slumped down in the seat. Blond bangs swung forward and hid his face from view, although his body language was sufficient to communicate that he did _not _want to talk right now.

But Roy had known Gracia since shortly before she married his best friend, and as nice as she was, she could be stubborn enough to get her husband _and_ the Colonel to stay to clean up after dinner—a feat which took some doing. She'd push, alright, no matter how polite she might be about it.

"Do you know where he is?" Gracia ventured softly. "The last anyone else saw of him was when you two left headquarters that Friday afternoon." She paused. Still no answer. "Maes and Roy didn't get there in time to see what happened to him, but if you knew…"

Ed finally looked up, his expression one of confusion. "Hughes and the Colonel?" he mumbled, mystified. "They were there?"

That brought pause to the conversation. Gracia blinked, showing that she hadn't quite been prepared for that particular reaction, and Roy's mind was coming up with absolutely zero possible answers to clarify the situation. Ed had been lucid when they'd gotten there—hanging onto life by the tips of his fingers and with eyes that were filled with pain almost beyond comprehension, but Roy was positive the boy had recognized him.

"You saw us," Roy said softly, and Ed's eyes quickly reverted to his plate rather than meeting the Colonel's gaze. "Didn't you? We got there just after he stabbed you a second time… Barely in time to stop him from finishing the job…"

He trailed off, reluctant to give any more detail of that horrible night that hadn't let him sleep undisturbed for more than a week. Ed hadn't moved; Roy noticed he didn't seem tense or reluctant so much as utterly blank.

"I got home fairly early, with… Al," Ed said slowly, and the painful effort necessary to say his brother's name was evident. "Hinze came home late. And drunk. And he was yelling at me, saying I'd told someone…" The blond was no longer fixated on his half-finished dinner. His gaze was distant and vaguely oriented onto the wall somewhere to the left of Roy's head.

"And then it all goes black," Ed whispered. "I just have flashes and bits after that. I don't know what happened to my brother. I don't remember anything that happened that night."

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading, drop a line if you feel so inclined.<strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	6. VI

__**Another chapter! Paragraphs of italics are flashbacks, just by the way, in case that isn't already obvious.**

**Disclaimer: I think I forgot this in the last few chapters, but since we all know I don't own it, this is my disclaimer for the rest of the story: I don't own FMA.**

**Again, thank you all reviewers, I appreciate your comments! XD**

* * *

><p><em>Roy wasn't <em>that_ drunk. Really. Just a pleasant buzz in his skull from a shot or two—he was too tense to lose himself properly in the drink, still thinking of what he'd done that day. Was it a good idea? He wondered sometimes. Well, he'd find out. There hadn't been much of a choice, even: it was either he ignored the signs he so stupidly hadn't seen for so long or he filed an abuse charge against a higher officer._

_If he'd ignored the Elrics' plight, he knew he'd never be able to forgive himself. And so he'd stuck the damn paper in the pile to be filed. Havoc had taken it down with the rest of the stack, and Roy could only imagine what the exact response would be. All he knew is that he was settling for nothing less than Ed and Al getting taken away from that bastard and put somewhere they were safe._

_He hadn't spoken of it to anyone, as of yet, not even Maes. However, his old friend seemed to have picked up on the vibe and had similarly stayed mostly sober. He wouldn't be staggering around in a drunken stupor singing, for certain, and Roy found it incredibly unlikely that anyone severely ticking off the Lieutenant Colonel that night would find anything less than the usual accuracy of the man's aim with his push knives._

_The street they were on was dark, nearly deserted. It was fairly late, and the two friends were going home. Roy was almost thinking about just crashing at Maes' place; his own seemed so far away suddenly…_

_There was a woman standing on the corner, at least sixty-five with a cotton-ball tuft of wispy white hair atop her head. She had an old knitted shawl pulled tightly around bony shoulders and was glancing down either way of the street nervously. Her posture straightened noticeably when she caught sight of the two of them coming down the street and let out a titter laced with both nervousness and relief._

"_Oh, thank the stars above! You two men are military, aren't you?"_

_Roy and Maes exchanged a quick glance; they didn't always necessarily get a welcome when people knew who they were, but this lady seemed quite anxious to meet them._

"_Yes, we are," Roy said firmly. "Do you need something?"_

_The woman began twisting her shawl around her hands anxiously. "I heard screaming," she hissed conspiratorially. "I heard screaming from the house next to mine—it was a child, too. A young boy, by the sound of it! I don't know what to do!"_

"_Why didn't you call the police?" Maes asked her, keeping his voice calm in an attempt to maintain her current lucidity with the situation—if she turned to hysterics now, this 'screaming child' would go without help._

"_My phone doesn't work," she explained. "I should really get it fixed, but I hardly ever need it anyway… The boy was screaming! In pain! You need to help!" she begged. "I've heard things before, maybe a little suspicious, but never for long and never so loud—oh, please!"_

"_Show us the house, Miss," Roy requested levelly. "We'll do what we can." The pleasant buzz of his earlier alcohol was pushed away ruthlessly: he wouldn't have a real hangover tomorrow and what he needed right now were his wits about him, whatever this was about._

_The woman quickly shuffled down the sidewalk, leading them to the suspicious residence. They stopped in front of the door, and Roy had a distinctly awkward feeling. No matter the screaming that may or may not have occurred before, it was gone now, and the two military men couldn't go barging into a house on evidence that might very well be the senile imaginations of an old woman._

_But something was bothering Roy. He slowly turned the knob with his hand—or tried to. It was locked. Roy frowned; they weren't getting in there any way short of breaking the door down, and that could cause some very angry people inside. Instead, the Colonel pressed his ear against the door._

"_Hear anything?" Maes murmured. Roy held up a finger in a gesture to give him a minute. There _was_ some sound, but it was hard to hear through the door and intervening rooms, however many there might be. Someone was speaking loudly, and roughly. He couldn't make out the individual words but the growl of the voice was vaguely familiar… He pulled back from the door._

"_Someone's talking, not shouting, but not speaking normally either. They sound angry… And I swear I've heard their voice before," he added, casting a glance to Maes. And then something caught his eye, just beyond Maes' head: brass numbers bolted to the wall, the house number. That number. He knew that number._

_The blood drained from Roy's face. "General Hinze," he whispered. Then his eyes met with his friend's. Maes may have not known as much as Roy about the life of Hinze and the Elric brothers behind the walls of their home, but he could easily pick up on his friend's fear, and the rumors surrounding the General of his scandals and lapses in what little character he had weren't exactly soothing any anxiety._

"_Ed and Al are in there," Maes whispered._

_Roy didn't hesitate as he turned around and kicked open the door—and just as his foot made contact with the wood, an unearthly scream sounded from within the house that could only belong to one person._

_So much for being able to protect every one of his subordinates, Roy reflected bitterly._

_Maes was in right behind him as they entered the house, going at a half run as they scanned where they were and tried to decide where, exactly, the screams were coming from. It took them approximately fifteen seconds to burst into the bedroom that was the site of the scene._

_Edward was an absolute mess—automail mangled beyond use, his flesh arm bent at an unnatural angle. Normally golden hair was red with blood and his face was nearly unrecognizable. Above him, Hinze was crouching with one knee placed firmly on the floor. A knife was raised above his head, a knife that already had blood on it, and he brought it down into his stepson for a second time, just below his rips, ripping a scream from the boy that left Roy in doubt as to which it tore apart more: his eardrums or his heart._

_Hinze yanked the knife out of the flesh again, and Ed's limp form jerked feebly. The General moved to finish it all with one last stroke of the blade, but Roy got there first._

_Both officers went rolling when Roy tackled Hinze. The Colonel kept a close eye on the knife as the General struggled, and as it came dangerously close to his neck, the Flame Alchemist reached and gripped his wrist before ramming it into the ground with the momentum of both of their bodies. There was a crack of a bone as the wrist broke, and a yell was torn from Hinze's throat as he dropped the knife. His struggles were stayed and Roy threw him off, into a wall, and scrambled over to Ed._

_To the body._

_No, he had to be alive. He couldn't be dead. See? His chest was still rising and falling (in little jerks, uneven, and that rasping noise couldn't have been a good sign). Roy's hands shook as they hovered over the boy, so much of him glistening and red and…_

_Oh God almighty…_

_He was dying._

_Roy could hear a tussle to the side—Maes had taken over his fight and he and the General were wrestling for victory—but it was a distant kind of notice, because there wouldn't be much that could penetrate his absolute panic at the moment. So much blood, and he knew that face, (but he didn't because he could hardly see Ed under what Hinze had done to him, left eye swollen shut but that right one was wide open and golden and staring at him like Roy was the last thing he'd ever see on Earth and was that true?) and this was almost too much._

"_Ambulance!" Roy said helplessly, and cast his gaze around—Maes was busy with Hinze, and Roy himself couldn't have moved if he wanted to, but in the doorway stood the old woman with both hands over her mouth as she looked on in horror._

"_Ambulance!" he said again, staring at her. She stared back, reflecting the same terror in the Colonel's own eyes. He calmed his voice, and ordered, "Get an ambulance. He's dying. Find the phone and get an ambulance."_

_She was shaking, horror and terror and fear, but she went, spinning on heel and fleeing as fast as her sixty-plus-year-old body would take her. Roy allowed himself to look back at Ed._

_So much blood. Too much blood. He wouldn't survive he continued losing the life-sustaining miracle liquid at this rate. It all seemed to be flowing out of his torso, (Roy realized far too late that he was kneeling in a puddle of it on the carpet, would that stain ever come out? he wondered hysterically) flowing from the site of the knife wounds Hinze had inflicted on him._

_Stop the bleeding. Stop the blood. Stop death._

_Roy pressed his hands over the wound (pressure, pressure to stop the bleeding) and heard Ed gasp slightly. Roy's head swiveled like an owl's (his eyes as wide, too) to stare at him, stare at that face he couldn't really see._

_A single open golden eye shone brightly with fear and tears of tortuous pain, confusion flooding in as Roy watched._

"_Mustang?" It was a choke, a gasp, but somehow the boy got across his absolute disbelief in such a short statement. "Mus-tang… Al, Al, where's… Al… Tried to save—" The rambling sentence filled with pain was cut off as a hacking cough convulsed the small body. Blood spattered on the torn remains of the boy's shirt, onto Roy's military jacket._

_The Colonel was still shaking, shaking his head, begging to whatever unknown god there was that this boy would _live_, that _this boy would not be taken_… "Stay awake, Fullmetal. Stay awake. Come on, don't die." But the golden eye closed. "Stay awake," Roy begged, oh God no, not this boy, "stay _awake, _damnit_!_"_

_Eternity, or no time at all—who knows when they came, but then the doctors were grasping, lifting Ed onto a stretcher and carrying the broken, bleeding, dying form out of the room. Hinze was kneeling on the floor, wrists handcuffed behind his back, Maes standing by with a firm hand warningly on the General's shoulder. Green eyes shimmered with horrified, unshed tears, hidden inadequately behind the glasses._

_Roy followed the doctors. Out to the ambulance, he climbed in, someone protested—he snarled and the doctor let him stay, (so long as he didn't obstruct their work, someone said, and why did they think he'd do a stupid thing like that?) so he crouched by the head of the stretcher, one hand resting right next to that red-blond head._

_Live. Live. Live._

_This was the Fullmetal Alchemist, after all._

_Roy's fingers touched the wetness of the red-blond hair and his dark blue eyes took in the small form._

_No._

_This was a child._

_Live anyway, Edward. Live._

* * *

><p>Roy hung his coat on the coat rack again as he and Edward trailed back inside the Mustang residence, silence hovering over them in a thick blanket. After his little amnesia revelation, Ed had asked—warily, Roy had noticed—what had happened that night. Maes had silently nominated Roy for the telling of the tale, but what information he could supply was small.<p>

"Your next door neighbor found us walking down the street and said she heard you screaming. We broke down the door and managed to get to you before Hinze could finish you off. You almost died." Why he'd added the last part, he didn't know—the blond boy already knew how close he'd been to never waking up.

Ed hadn't pried for much more information beyond that, seeming to sense the reluctance with which Roy said anything at all on the topic.

The blond shuffled his feet on the tile floor in the foyer of the house. He glanced toward the stairway hopefully and then back at Roy, biting his lip. "Can I go—" Then he stopped. Kept his eyes warily on Roy—and scooted off to the stairs without asking permission.

Roy smiled. "Good night, Edward," he called softly. The footsteps on the stairs stopped briefly. But there was no reply, and the steps resumed.

Well, he'd respond someday, Roy reasoned—_not_ asking permission was actually a good sign in this case—and set off to bed himself.

* * *

><p>Roy woke to a disorienting mixture of Ed's vocalized terror and his own horrifying nightmares. His sheets were twisted around his legs and cold sweat was a slight sheen on his face. His arms were shaking as they held his body in a half-sitting position, listening. Ed's screams cut off quite abruptly and was replaced by a single loud, gasping sob before the boy's distress lessened into volume he couldn't hear through two doors and a hallway.<p>

For the first time during this recurring nightly _ritual_, it could almost be called, Roy could truly sympathize with Ed's sudden waking terror. Ishval… the sand and screams blurred through his mind again and he shuddered. In the hallway, he heard two doors open and close, then the shower starting. Roy reached over and fumbled with his alarm clock to set it to ring in an hour's time—he wouldn't be able to stay awake that long tonight, but Ed still needed his help.

He let his head drop back onto the pillow and stared at the ceiling. He knew it well from every sleepless night he'd ever had, alone in his room in his house, at least a mile from anyone he spoke to on a regular basis and even farther from anyone he'd be able to speak to after a nightmare. The pattern supplied many abstract shapes in which to find practically anything, but if he let his imagination wander, it would turn to scenes of death and corpses as it always did. So Roy stared at the ceiling and tried to imagine what Ed must dream about to wake him in terror every night.

The shower routine made it fairly obvious—screaming into wakefulness from subconscious memories of Hinze's heavy-handed blows and unwanted advances, but Roy also wondered if anything else made it into his nightly dreams. The Colonel hadn't been there when the human transmutation had occurred and had never seen anything like one before or since, but when he'd found out and confronted the blond boy about it—

"_It was supposed to be our mom," Ed said, and the silent 'but it wasn't' was well heard; though his golden gaze didn't meet the dark one staring stolidly down at him, Roy could see the shadows tainting the bright eyes at whatever the inhuman thing _had_ been, if not their mother_.

—he'd gotten the idea that it hadn't been a pretty sight, nightmare-worthy, most likely. Did Ed ever dream about that? Would he ever hide himself under the shower's spray after such an image? Roy probably would never know, he decided. Not unless Ed suddenly chose to bare his soul to the man he couldn't stand to touch him.

So he'd never know. Well then.

He didn't ever drift off to sleep, exactly, just hovered in between consciousness and slumber until his alarm jerked him out of it. Reflexively, he slammed his hand down on the button to shut the damn thing up, but he rose to a sitting position immediately as he remembered why the clock was set to ring at such an ungodly hour of the morning as two o'clock.

The shower was still running as he stepped into the bathroom, and Ed's clothes were in a little heap near the tub, as Roy had come to expect even after so few days. He snagged a towel from the bar set into the wall and carefully moved the curtain aside, shutting off the water in the same movement.

Ed rose like a zombie, blinking up at Roy as if he weren't really seeing the older man.

"Please… no more…"

"It's okay now," was all Roy could manage before his throat closed up at the pitiful sight. He carefully wrapped the towel around Ed's shoulders, expecting and noticing but completely ignoring the boy's violent flinch at the brief contact. With a soft gesture, he nudged Ed out of the tub.

When Roy tried to get the blond to move out of the bathroom, however, he met some resistance and looked down to see Ed staring at him.

"You… you're not Hinze," Ed whispered. "What…" He left the sentence hanging, blinking at Roy in abstract confusion.

"I'm not Hinze," Roy assured. "You're safe here. Come on, I'll help you back." He didn't bother saying 'your room' or, even worse, 'bed,' figuring it would be much better to be vague then to have a panicked Ed shrieking his lungs out in the middle of the night. Ed obediently shuffled into the hallway and then into his own room. Roy shut the door for him and leaned against it for a good few minutes before working up the energy and will to actually go back into his own room.

After the nightmares that had visited him earlier, it wasn't like he'd be going back to sleep for long, anyway.

* * *

><p>Roy woke again in cold sweat at five o'clock but waited until nearly six thirty to actually leave his room. He was very familiar with his own habits and figured it would be much easier to plead 'late and in a hurry' than try to explain things to Ed right after a revisit to Ishval, the root of all his nightmares.<p>

Practically sprinting down to the kitchen, Roy found Ed shuffling warily around the room, looking uncertain and a little lost. He felt a pang of guilt for that, but it couldn't be helped at this point; he went rummaging through the cupboard and retrieved two pieces of bread, hesitated, and went back for two more for Ed. Quickly, he stuck them into the toaster and went around collecting the things he needed. Ed watched him as he swept around the room, appearing a bit blown away by his rush.

"Sorry about the late morning," Roy apologized absently. "Slept in." A lie. "You'll need to cook your own breakfast, if you could"—that bit was true—"there's eggs and bacon in the fridge, pans in the cupboard there." He gestured to said cupboard with his foot as he snatched the piping hot pieces of toast from the toaster and began to butter them hastily.

Ed watched him as he swept out of the room again, still standing in the same place as when Roy had first entered. The Colonel felt a quick flare of regret, leaving him hanging, but it was better this way. He didn't want to have to explain this early in the morning why he couldn't manage to cook breakfast after a nightmare.

On a good day, it was fine. Eggs were the rubbery mess they'd always been and the smell of bacon was bearable so long as he didn't actually eat any. On a bad day, after a bad night full of flashes of Ishval… any kind of cooking flesh took him back to sand and blood, and to take a bite was the horror of cannibalism. On a good day, he could pretend everything was alright in the world. On a bad day, he was forcibly reminded through something as ostensibly innocent as breakfast that it _wasn't._

When he got to work, Hawkeye took one look at him, thumped his work onto his desk, and left his office without a word. She returned with a steaming cup of coffee and Roy basked in its heavenly aroma, incredibly relieved that the one watching his back was the one person that could understand without a spoken word.

After all, he could read the dark circles under her eyes just as well.

The day meandered by and he threw himself into his paperwork to forget the ghosts at his shoulder, crowding together by the thousands, all dark with white hair and red eyes. He finished it in nearly record time, and his entire office expected it—yesterday's feat had been a surprise only because it had been a good day.

He hated the difference between his days.

Roy walked home, decided a drink was in order for that night, and accordingly stopped by the liquor store. He walked in the door with a bottle in hand and set it on the floor right next to the coat rack as he tried to wrestle his coat buttons into coming undone.

A smell from the kitchen stopped him in his tracks. Food cooking—that should be tasty. Potatoes, he thought he smelled, with some kind of garlic seasoning, along with steak or another meat—

_He sniffed once and immediately regretted it. While Kimblee was taking in the scents with a twisted, perverse delight, Roy felt like giving up his breakfast to the grisly odor permeating the air, ashes and charred flesh and he could almost smell the screams…_

—Roy drew in a shaky breath. It didn't help much, spread the smell again through his nasal tracts. He stopped breathing for a moment, in an attempt to hold on the sanity that seemed to be slipping away from him much too easily, and compromised by breathing in only through his mouth. He steeled himself and stepped into the kitchen.

It was almost endearing how Ed was arranging the food on two plates. He looked up, hearing Roy come through the door, with a little hopeful smile on his face that faltered when he noticed the expression on the Colonel's. Roy saw the boy look down and shrink into himself, but couldn't find the strength to change his features from their shocked—and not necessarily pleased—appearance.

"I." Ed said only one word before opening and closing his mouth soundlessly, shifting back and forth nervously on his feet. "I, ah, thought it… would be good… for dinner…" He glanced down at the floor, his shoulders hunching slightly, and Roy found himself nodding to forestall the boy's retreat.

"Thank you," he managed, but it sounded papery and rough even to himself. Ed winced at the sound. "I—sorry, this just caught me at a bad time," he said, and let out a huge breath. He felt vaguely lightheaded and figured that probably wasn't a good thing. "I'm just not a big meat eater," he heard himself say, and exited the room as suddenly as he'd entered.

He collapsed on the couch, in the living room where the smell wasn't so strong. It was easier to think, easier to breathe. He _hated_ doing that to Ed, giving him the wrong idea, reacting badly because of his own damn problems… If only he could make Ed understand what he _wished_ he could say.

For a few minutes, he was alone, and then he heard a shuffling sound from the direction of the kitchen. He didn't look up—what was he supposed to say? The couch cushion beside him bowed noticeably with Ed's weight, and Roy forced himself to look over at him.

He was holding a plate, one of the two he'd been arranging on the counter. But the slab of steak previously tainting the otherwise perfectly edible meal was nowhere in sight. There were only potatoes and—Roy blinked, because he didn't even know he'd _had_ asparagus, much less that Ed would be able to cook them.

Ed shifted the plate slightly, holding it out towards Roy like a peace offering. The Colonel stared at the meal for a moment, then glanced up to look at Ed's face. The golden eyes were determined and he was biting his lip.

"I thought you might want something to eat. You didn't seem much in a mood to cook anything this morning."

Gingerly, Roy reached out and took the plate. "Thank you."

He ate on the couch, Ed watching almost shyly from the cushion next to him. The blond boy took a breath. "Why… don't you…" He didn't seem to have it in himself to finish the sentence, but Roy didn't need him to.

Roy set the plate down on the coffee table and said softly, "Everyone has their demons. Mine show up in… unique ways, I suppose. Thank you for the thought of dinner, Edward. I think I'm going to go to bed early." And maybe that way he'd get some sleep undisturbed by nightmares. He rose from the couch and set off towards the stairs.

"But—"

Roy paused and looked back at Ed, who seemed to have changed his mind about saying anything. "Yes?" he asked patiently.

Ed chewed his lip. "Aren't you… The bandages?"

Roy grimaced slightly. "I'd quite forgotten. Yes, I'll be right back down."

The bandages were a routine as much as the nightly shower escapade was. Dressing the wounds brought their own challenges to Roy and Ed, leaving them both to try to work things out. The same they had to do with everything—but whenever they messed up, Roy wished Ed would react with the outbursts of the past instead of the panic attacks threatening so often now.

Routine. That's what it all became. It seemed it took only a flash for the rest of the week to pass and then it was Friday.

Then things took a turn for… well, Roy couldn't honestly say he knew if it was better or worse at the time.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism remains much appreciated! XD<strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	7. VII

**I'm still totally shocked at what a response this story is getting. 83 reviews, 58 favorites, 82 alerts, all in 6 chapters. O.O Thank you so much, readers! Now here's chapter 7!**

**Authors note is an asterisk with a corresponding comment at the bottom, fyi.**

**Also, a million thanks to AprilJoy, my beta, who has been editing my chapters for the past three or so but I have neglected to mention until now... *gives cyber cookies in apology***

* * *

><p>Someone said once that alcohol held the secrets to the universe. Or the answers to life's problems. Or something like that, anyway—Roy was having trouble remembering at the moment.<p>

Nestled away in a dingy bar that he and Maes enjoyed frequenting when circumstances allowed, Roy sat in a booth in a corner.

Someone also said you could drown your troubles in a beer.

They were all wrong—dead wrong. Because right now, Roy was drinking like he hadn't in a good four or five months, and he was still confused and frustrated and stuck—with a fuzzy head to boot.

"Maes, I just don't know what to _do_," Roy whines, feeling quite the pitiful drunk. His friend was comparatively sober and raised an eyebrow, secretly reveling in the knowledge that the Colonel had at last reached the talkative part of his drunkenness.

"Having trouble helping Ed?" Maes Hughes suggested. Roy bobbed his head disconsolately.

"He's so—so—_hurt_, and I think I'm just making things worse. I had Ishval nightmares again and cooked meat and I think I freaked him out pretty bad…"

Maes hummed his understanding, stared at his beer, and tipped it back for another drink. "Have you tried, you know, _talking _to him.?"

Roy stared at him. "Huh?"

With an exasperated huff, Maes rolled his eyes. "Ever the eloquent drunk, aren't you, Roy-boy?" he muttered sarcastically. "I _mean_, maybe you should _talk_ to Ed about what happened."

The Flame Alchemist regarded his friend with something nearing horror. "Why in hell would he want to _talk _about what Hinze did to him?"

Maybe so he can get it off his chest," Maes shrugged. "He probably feels more than a little alienated. From what little you've told me, he doesn't exactly act like the Ed we all know and love."

Mild confusion continued to be the only expression on Roy's face, and Maes groaned and thumped him on the head. The Colonel protested, but the spectacled man spoke over him.

"That's it, you're hopeless. I'll find Ed a counselor of psychologist or something and—"

"He's not insane*," Roy announced rather loudly, "he's just…" he paused and thought. What was the word again? "Trau-mat-a-tized," Roy articulated, and blinked at how that word sounded. Wrong. Had he missed a syllable or two?

Maes raised his eyebrows. "I agree with you and all, but… Roy, I think you've had enough to drink." He reached forward to tug Roy's beer away from him, but the alchemist scowled and yanked it closer, slopping some on the table. The Lieutenant Colonel sighed and rolled his eyes before standing. "I'm getting you home while you still have a chance of walking without falling over."

Hauling a reluctant Roy Mustang around was a considerable task, but Maes used to it by now and always made sure Roy didn't have his gloves on him. Out on the streets, the cold air eddying around every building managed to shake Roy out of the worst of his drunken stupor. He walked the last block alone as Maes split off to trek to his own home.

It was late, but not as late as Roy would normally go out drinking; he'd been looking to get wasted fast, and only Maes hovering by as designated 'driver' prevented that. It was maybe eleven at night, which meant he was quite surprised when he entered his home and saw Ed lying on the couch with his head propped up on the armrest.

Golden eyes opened as the door swung wide, and Ed sat up quickly, looking a little sheepish. Roy slipped in through the doorway and closed it behind him, fumbling with his coat buttons. It took longer than usual, and when he tried hanging it on the rack by the door, he missed the first time before successfully, if clumsily, hooking it on the coat rack. Alcoholic intoxication was not kind fine motor skills.

Roy turned back to Ed and ambled over to the couch, settling himself by the boy. Still fairly fuzzy-headed, as he would be until he went to bed and woke up the next morning, he didn't see the fear in Ed's eyes as he approached, or the utter terror as the boy shrank to the other side of the couch, sitting still but as tightly coiled as a spring, trembling barely noticeably.

"Ed," Roy said—it took him a few moments to remember what he'd been about to say, but then he found it again: Maes' suggestion about talking to Ed. "Maes and I were thinking about you." He reached over, intending to lay a hand on Ed's shoulder—that's how a man-to-man talk was supposed to work, wasn't it?

He wasn't prepared for Ed's reaction. Maybe if he hadn't been drunk. And he'd thought being stupidly fearless due to the alcohol humming through his system would _help_.

Ed was out of his seat on the couch faster than Roy's eyes could follow, and probably would have made it across the room in just over the time of a blink of an eye if he hadn't tripped over the edge of the coffee table and gone tumbling to the floor, landing on his back in what had to be a painful collision.

Roy reflexively stood and lurched toward him, wanting to help his charge, but Ed's golden eyes grew alarmingly wide and he shook his head frantically. "N—no, please, n—no, y—you _said_ you w—wouldn't—_please!_" He attempted to scramble to his feet but in his hurry he over balanced again.

Just before Ed face planted in the carpet, Roy caught his arm and pulled him close (hold him till he calms down, some subconscious part of him demanded). Ed _screamed_.

It was very possibly the worst, most horrifying sound Roy had ever heard in his life, full of primal fear and pure instinctive reaction to danger, and the dark-haired man recoiled and released Ed's arm as if an electric force had just coursed through those veins. The blond boy was sobbing, half out of his mind with terror, and sprinted around Roy and up the stairs.

Roy stood there dazed for a long moment, and then sat down hard on the couch, clutching his throbbing head with a groan. That scream hadn't been nice to his eardrums—he hadn't been nice to Ed.

He frowned. Yes he had. Why the _hell_ had he freaked out like that? There was a reason, floating just outside the reach of Roy's thoughts.

He really should get to sleep—he couldn't even think straight.

And so he did.

* * *

><p>Someone was beating his head with a mallet. A hard mallet. And it had to be Armstrong, because only he could hit it that hard.<p>

Roy opened his eyes blearily and groaned as the light flooded through the crack between his eyelids. His window curtains were wide open, and the sun was glaring at him heatedly. He tried sitting up and was rewarded by the throbbing in his skull increasing to an unbearable pain. Holy _shit_, what had he drunk last night?

It didn't take him long to remember. Hughes dragging him out of the house claiming that Roy needed to loosen up a bit, Roy agreeing full heartedly and letting him… Some conversation about Ed and then coming home. It took him a bit longer to remember after that, and while his memories were processing he stood up—_ow ow ow damn all hangovers_—and somehow managed to stumble into the bathroom. He twisted the faucet on and splashed some water in his face, waking him up ever so slightly, then opened the medicine cabinet and downed two aspirin. That helped—somewhat.

And then he froze as the last bit of his memory fell into place. With a frustrated groan he let his head fall to the counter, his forehead colliding painfully with the hard material, and that wasn't going to help his headache. But he didn't think much that he _deserved_ relief from his headache—damnit, why of _all_ things to happen did he have to come home drunk when Ed was still out there in the open? If the blond had just been in his room…

But Edward wasn't the one to blame for this new disaster, and Roy felt the guilt welling up inside. He hadn't been attempting what Ed had no doubt thought he was going to do, but that gave him no excuse for utterly terrifying the boy. He needed to talk to Ed; a frontal confrontation through Ed's bedroom door wouldn't work well at all, so he should go make breakfast. Maybe that would lure Ed out of his sanctuary?

Head still throbbing, he made his way downstairs and turned on the stove, grateful that he hadn't had nightmares of Ishval for a few days. The smell of bacon would permeate the house and alert Ed without making Roy go to any further measures, and a panic attack wouldn't threaten either. Any minute now, Ed would come shuffling in as he did every morning, Roy would apologize profusely even though he wouldn't have done anything anyhow and swear never to get that drunk again while Ed lived in this house, and then things would return to normal. Or as normal as things in this house got, anyway.

Ed didn't come down. Roy dished up both plates and waited for a good ten minutes, but Ed wasn't coming; there were no footsteps on the stairs or the sound of a door opening. Roy's brow furrowed in concern. Okay, maybe he _would_ have to go get Ed.

There was no immediate response to the knock on Ed's bedroom door either, however.

"Ed?" Roy called. No answer. "Come on, Ed, I think we need to talk." Roy paused again, but there was still no sound from the other side of the doorway. "Ed! Are you awake?" He had to be. Such a jumpy boy couldn't possibly sleep through Roy calling to him that loudly.

Ed was ignoring him, Roy realized. He couldn't blame the blond after what had happened the night before, but Roy's current headache and rising frustration testified that it was a rather juvenile thing to do. Running away from problems never helped—and Roy winced as he realized he'd often employed that same technique himself.

But really, this couldn't be ignored. "Edward, you don't have to let me in, but we do have to talk, if only through the door."

Still nothing. Was Ed even inside? Of course, where else would he be? But why wasn't he saying anything? Was something wrong? The thought poisoned Roy's mind and he was instantly on edge. "Edward? Are you in there? You don't have to even talk to me, just—let me know you're okay. Edward?"

Silence. "Ed, you have ten seconds to respond and then I'm coming in." He counted to ten, listening intently as worry ate at his insides, and when no reply came he turned the doorknob, noting with no small amount of trepidation that it wasn't locked.

The door swung wide, revealing—

The room was empty. Hardly a sign it was even being lived in. The bed was made impeccably, exactly as it had been when Ed first arrived, and Roy couldn't see any clothes lying about, just the dirty ones stored in the hamper in the corner by the closet.

And there was definitely no Edward.

Roy stepped inside reflexively, scanning the room a second time as if there was a chance he'd missed something during the first; the window was open. The room was cold. It had been open for a while, then—for all Roy knew, Ed had run away last night, directly after the incident.

Well, shit.

Edward was his weak spot, and if not that, then the one thing that left him totally out of his depth. So he did the one thing that came naturally in a situation involving anyone under the age of twenty: he called Maes.

The phone rang three times before it was picked up by a calm, serene-sounding Gracia. "Hughes residence."

"Hello, Gracia," Roy greeted kindly before his voice slipped into more irritated tones. "Where the _hell_ is Maes? I'm going to _kill_ him!"

There was a pause on the other line. "Kindly refrain from threatening my husband with a cruel and unusual death," she said, somewhat wryly. "But yes, I believe he's awake already. In the playroom with Elysia. Give me a moment."

Roy waited impatiently as he heard Maes' bright, happy voice cooing to his daughter, nearing the phone at last.

"To what do I owe this most recent death threat?" Maes asked, entirely too cheerful. Roy scowled; why was _he_ the only one with a head-splitting hangover?

"Maes," he began threateningly, "what, exactly, _possessed_ you to take me out drinking last night?"

There was a pause. "That's a bad thing?" Maes said slowly. "You were stressed—"

"Do you have any _idea_ how Ed reacted when I got home?"

"Oh." Maes said slowly. "Didn't think of that. I'm guessing it wasn't good?"

"That would be an understatement," Roy growled. "And frankly, I'm in no condition to take care of him while drunk out of my mind."

"So why not talk to him now?"

"He's gone."

Silence.

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Maes said urgently.

"He ran away, what else? I tried talking to him this morning, but he wasn't answering when I knocked on his door, so I went in—he wasn't there and the window was open."

Maes swore. "I'll be over there in ten minutes."

"You better be," Roy growled, and hung up the phone.

* * *

><p>Maes scrutinized the bush under Ed's window and shoved his hands in his pockets before slowly shaking his head. "He didn't land in the bush. Are you sure he jumped out the window?"<p>

"No," Roy admitted, crossing his arms tightly and staring up at the sky. The sun was up, had been for about two hours now, but it was still fairly chilly. "I just… assumed. But either way, he's not in the house, I looked."

"Then where is he?" Maes murmured, not asking the question to be answered, just pondering aloud.

Roy stared incriminatingly at the window, like it was the reason Ed had run away. Kid was small enough to have climbed out of it, for sure, but as to where he'd gone—and then he froze, noticing the overlapping rectangles that were the evidence of a hasty alchemic transmutation, leading _up_ from the window and all the way along the outside wall to…

"Maes, he's on the roof. See the transmutation marks?" Roy pointed, and Maes' gaze followed his finger.

Comprehension dawned in his expression. "I see it. You think he's still up there?"

Chewing his lip, Roy shrugged. "Most likely. Definitely worth taking a look." He fished in his pocket for a stick of chalk, and Maes rolled his eyes; the Lieutenant Colonel seemed to find it incredibly amusing that alchemists had chalk everywhere they went, including their pajamas. Didn't he appreciate the possible danger for all State Alchemists that brought this about? Roy huffed peevishly at Maes' smirking grin and sketched a quick circle on the wall, bringing a rough ladder from the stone. It wasn't particularly well-made, Roy's specialty being flame alchemy, but it would hold and serve its purpose.

"Stay here," Roy told Maes—it wasn't exactly that he _wanted_ to face Ed on his own, but he didn't think he'd be able to carry out a meaningful conversation with the boy while Maes was there attracting his ire.

Maes held up his hands in mock surrender. "Wasn't planning on following. This is your duty, and Hawkeye aside, _I'm_ not letting you put this one off."

Roy made a face at him. A juvenile thing to do, certainly, but it seemed appropriate at the moment. The Colonel then continued up the ladder.

At the top, his suspicions were justified. Edward was sitting on the roof, curled up against the chimney and sleeping in the shade it offered from the still rising sun. He was wearing the same clothes he had last night and thought his face was peaceful, Roy could see the tear-tracks marking lines down his cheeks.

Sleeping. Here. On a _roof_. Roy paused, trying to negotiate the best way to go about this. Just waking up Ed would probably not be a good idea—he'd been terrified of Roy last night, and being hunted down by that same man within his sanctuary would no doubt send the same panic rising in his system.

Maybe if he stayed on the ladder, then. Roy set his elbows over the edge of the rooftop and bit his lip in a rare show of sincere uncertainty and called softly, "Edward?"

Ed stirred, even at the quiet volume Roy had used. He must be a light sleeper, probably conditioned by years of attempting to coexist with Hinze with as little damage done as possible. Golden eyes flickered open slowly and then widened as he scrambled into a sitting position, revealing a moment of frightened uncertainty before the blond boy was able to assess the situation. He stilled as he noticed Roy standing on the ladder.

"Edward, are you alright?"

Ed stared at him warily and didn't answer. His muscles hummed with visible tension and he appeared ready to bolt if Roy so much as twitched. What trust there had been yesterday, built up over the past week, had evaporated into so much smoke thanks to the events of the night before.

"I'm sorry I scared you last night," Roy said softly, keeping his gaze nonthreatening but still looking Ed in the eye. "I didn't realize that coming home drunk would affect you like that. I wouldn't have hurt you, you know."

Ed's wide-eyed stare turned into a distrustful glare. "You grabbed me. You tried…"—his breath hitched and his voice trembled—"you tried to touch me."

Roy shook his head. "I'm sorry it seemed like that. I was trying to calm you down. Hugging works for a lot of people"—he internally winced at how pathetically sappy that made 'a lot of people' sound—"and since I was drunk I guess I automatically thought it would work for you too. I don't process things too well when I'm that drunk—I'm sorry, Edward."

He said his words softly, calmly, and explained things thoroughly. That would help, wouldn't it? Telling Ed that he really didn't have anything to fear.

It didn't seem to have any effect on Ed's current mood. He still looked ready to bolt—what happened to that boy who would never run from a fight? Probably beaten out of him by Hinze, Roy thought bitterly.

"Will you come back down?" Roy asked him. Ed's eyes shone with uncertainty, and then he shook his head quickly. Roy suppressed a sigh; this wasn't exactly the most comfortable of positions, what with the next step up on the ladder cutting into his shins and the ridge of the roof pressed against his chest. Sighing, he heaved himself up to sit on the edge of the roof. Ed jumped and gave a small, quiet scream at the movement, but Roy held his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Ed, I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here."

"You—you were _drunk_," Ed whispered accusingly.

Roy winced. "And that will never happen again. I'm sorry, I didn't think it would get that reaction from you. Please, Ed, I'm sorry, give me a second chance. I wasn't going to hurt you."

Ed was still inching away. His feet carefully sought out proper footing on the slanted tiles on the roof, carefully distancing himself from the man he no longer trusted. Roy pursed his lips.

"Ed—"

It happened quickly—one moment Ed was inching along, that incriminating golden gaze resting on Roy, and then the next moment those eyes widened as his automail foot caught the wrong way on a roof tile, upsetting his balance and sending him toppling to the side, towards the edge of the roof. Roy's eyes went wide with horror and he lunged forward, latching onto his wrist—but the hand slipped through his fingers.

"Ed!"

There was no sickening thump on the ground below, however, and Roy gave a silent prayer of thanks to who knew what when he saw the fingers gripping the edge of the roof. He edged over, taking care not to lose his own balance. Edward was hanging below, an expression on his face not unlike the blazing determination he used to wear. Roy couldn't help but blink. So one man who had _never_ hurt him before frightened Ed when a twenty-foot uncontrolled drop couldn't? Wondering of the mental risk-assessment running around in Ed's brain, Roy offered his arm out to Ed.

"Need a hand?" he asked.

Ed shook his head, and surprisingly, the silent declaration wasn't just talk, or the lack thereof. _There_ was the old Fullmetal, Roy thought with a mental nod of approval. Roy moved to the side as Ed heaved himself back onto the rooftop. The Colonel let out a slight sigh of relief, and Ed shot him a quick look.

"I'll come down," he murmured, his voice barely audible and his shoulders hunched. "But only 'cause I don't have a death wish." He sidled over to the alchemically created ladder like a crab, keeping a wary eye on Roy, who stayed well out of the way. The Colonel let him pass and didn't start down the ladder until Ed was almost at the bottom.

Maes' face brightened when he caught sight of Ed coming down and immediately began babbling excitedly as he always did. Though his smile never faltered, he trailed off soon enough as Ed stared at him with dull eyes and trudged inside without saying a word. The Lieutenant Colonel cast an inquiring look at the dark-haired alchemist, but Roy could only shrug before glaring.

"Thanks, Maes. Our budding relationship here really needed a happy dagger of drunken betrayal," he quipped, sarcasm oozing out of his voice. Maes' mouth drew down in a frown.

"Don't be like that, Roy. I didn't know either."

Roy sighed and kneaded his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I know," he admitted, his tone softening. "It's just—" But he couldn't find the words, and eventually he turned away. "I have to go look after Ed."

Maes nodded morosely and set off for his own home, his mood quite tempered from his chipper personality not long ago.

Ed was waiting inside for Roy, hovering by the staircase in an unspoken threat to run again should anything remotely untoward happen. The Colonel raised his hands in immediate surrender.

"Edward, I'm sorry. I was drunk, I didn't think, I wouldn't have done anything—"

"I know." Ed's voice was quiet and raw, but Roy was more than relieved at the message it brought. And then: "But. It doesn't… it's not… okay," he finished, thin voice wavering violently near the end despite any attempts to conceal them.

Roy understood and nodded slowly. Ed was giving him the benefit of doubt after all. The boy wouldn't act against what had transpired—but there was the implied denial of forgiveness of the encounter, and worse.

There would be no punishment for Roy for the unthinking release of strict standards, but the meager trust that had built between the two alchemists had been utterly shattered.

And Roy could only hope and pray that the loss wasn't irrevocable.

* * *

><p><strong>* Yes, I know you don't have to be insane or even mentally ill to go to a psychologist or counselor. This is Roy's drunken, somewhat misinformed opinion here, not mine.<strong>

**Thanks for reading, leave a review if you liked this chapter. Constructive criticism is much appreciated; I'm doing this as realistically as I can, but since I have never been and don't know anyone who has been in this kind of situation, any further thoughts will be taken into consideration. I'm doing the best I can!**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	8. VIII

**We hit a hundred reviews last chapter! Woot! Thank you all who took time to leave a few words, they're very encouraging.**

**Guess what? Contacts are killers at first - poking my own eye is not my idea of fun. But they're sooo much easier to live with than glasses. XD Just my little newsflash for today. (I got contacts last week.)**

**Enjoy the new chapter.**

* * *

><p>Ed fidgeted in the car the entire way to the hospital. Roy noted the movement, but made no comment; at this point, Ed would probably end up snarling at him and jump out of the car. It was strange: one moment, the blond would be too terrified of the Colonel's presence to move, and the next he'd be glaring freely. Right now was definitely the 'glare' portion of the cycle—Roy could see those distrustful golden eyes boring into him by way of the rear-view mirror.<p>

Roy sat in the waiting room for the nurse's assessment of Ed's injuries. The doctor had offered to let him stay in the room as he checked the knife wound, but one look at the expression on Ed's face and Roy hastily excused himself to the waiting room.

Twenty minutes later, Ed shuffled into the waiting room with the nurse right behind him.

"The bandages aren't necessary anymore," the nurse announced, "the wound has nearly healed—but I expect him to be kept off of active duty for another two weeks at least," she added, giving Roy a stern look. Normally, Roy might have tried flirting with her to oust her demanding exterior, but frankly all he wanted to do was get home with Ed without further mishap.

He nodded. "Thank you." The Colonel beckoned to Ed, who followed three and a half paces behind him, what the blond had apparently determined a safe distance.

The ride back home was as silent and anxious as the ride there, if slightly different for the fact that Ed was staring single-mindedly out of the window at the passing city instead of glaring at his guardian in the rear-view mirror.

They pulled up to the house and Roy climbed out slowly, still feeling heavy and slow from a slightly lingering hangover and the disaster barely avoided that morning. Ed slipped out of the vehicle nimbly and paused at the door for Roy to pull out the key. The Colonel couldn't help but notice that, as he approached, Ed shuffled back to the corner of the porch in order to keep a decent-sized gap between them. And kind of potential closeness between the two had been set back for a time Roy had yet to determine.

Well, at least there wasn't the issue brought about by the bandages any longer. At the moment, if Roy had slipped up at all, Ed probably would have stayed on the roof for a full 24 hours. And frankly, Roy had no idea how the boy had even managed to stay on the slanted roof without falling off for as long as he had while _sleeping_. He'd break his neck—and then Roy remembered how he'd caught himself that morning on the ledge of the roof and that this was the _Fullmetal Alchemist_ here, in the end, despite everything else: he'd be totally fine camping out on the roof if he felt the inclination to.

"I'll start making lunch," Roy told him as they stepped into the house, both offering and simply stating a fact. Golden eyes swiveled to stare at him, searching to see if an answer was required, and then Ed disappeared up the stairs without a word. Roy sighed softly and made his way into the kitchen, beginning to prepare a couple sandwiches. Turkey and ham on Ed's, simply veggies on his own.

The phone rang, and Roy swore. It was probably Maes—almost always was, as a matter of fact—and he did_ not_ want to talk to his friend right now. He knew consciously that what had happened was Maes fault about as much as it was his; that is to say, not at all. They were victims of circumstance. But that didn't change the fact that, at a loss for anyone to blame except for Hinze himself, Roy had pinned blame for the drunken incident on the Lieutenant Colonel.

Scowling, he picked up the phone. "Roy Mustang."

"Yo, Roy-boy," came the expected voice, and Roy growled.

"What do you want, Maes?"

There was a pause. "You're still mad at me," Maes declared, sounding somewhat hurt. "Roy, I didn't know about this either."

The Colonel let out a huff and pinched the bridge of his nose. Maes was trying a guilt trip now. Fantastic. "I know," he conceded. "I'm just… damnit, why is this always so hard?" He didn't wait for an answer to that, and he doubted Maes would have had one to give anyhow. "What do you want?" Roy asked again, his voice now more tired and less accusing.

"I got a psychologist set up for Ed. You know, since you're so useless," Maes teased, voice light.

_Only in the rain,_ Roy wanted to growl, but if that were true than it was raining constantly in this house as of late. "A psychologist?" Roy said skeptically. "I thought you were drunk when you said that."

Maes let out a huff, a rush of static over the phone. "You were the drunk one, Roy-boy. _I_ still had my wits about me. And anyway, _yes_, a psychologist. He needs someone to talk to who's detached. Remember when you got home from Ishval and—"

"Yeah, yeah." Roy cut him off hastily, not wanting the reminder of… _that_ time in his life. Honestly, Maes wondered why he figured that psychologists were for the insane? Roy was still certain that he'd been losing his mind in the aftermath of the war.

But it had helped—the detached unconditional listener had helped.

"Okay, fine," Roy surrendered. "Did you already set up an appointment or what?"

"Tuesday, five-thirty."

"That's barely half an hour after I get off work," Roy complained.

"All the more reason for Hawkeye to let you off a little early, right?" Maes coaxed. "And she can't hold you over if you have a commitment to Ed."

Oh, damn friends like Maes. They were too persuasive when they wanted to be.

"Five-thirty, Tuesday," Roy recited. "Alright, I got it. Who's practice?"

"Dr. Burke. He'll be Ed's actual psychologist as well." Maes gave brief directions to Burke's office and then they bid their farewells. Roy's eyes rested on the phone, debating between glaring or not, before he finally gave up and turned around again.

Lunch was a simple affair with the sandwiches Roy made, and Ed scarfed down two and a quarter before bolting upstairs again, the rest of the third sandwich lying on a plate among its fellows' crumbly remains. Again, Roy was left alone in the kitchen.

A wide open, empty Saturday. A few weeks ago, Roy wouldn't have hesitated to call one of the women in his little black book, but with Ed in the house that wouldn't be the best idea for a variety of reasons. Roy reached into his pockets and fiddled about with his gloves before it came to him—it had been a while since he'd actually worked on his alchemy. It was still down in the basement, he was fairly sure.

So he descended the steps to immerse himself in his favorite variety of research: flame alchemy.

* * *

><p>Roy was scribbling away on his notes—women's names, his code—when he heard the door open. Or not so much <em>heard <em>it as saw the bar of light slide across the floor as the entrance swung wider.

His pen paused, hovering over the paper, and he turned to see Ed hesitating restlessly by the door, hands behind his back. Golden eyes watched him warily, then flicked around the room with something bordering excitement—then snapped back to Roy as he shifted in his seat to relieve some of the cramps he'd gotten from sitting for so long. How long had h been down here anyway? He checked his pocket watch and did a double-take, turning back to face Ed with no small amount of chagrin.

"Sorry, lost track of the time. I'm guessing you'll want dinner?" _An hour ago,_ Roy added sheepishly in his mind.

Ed shook his head slowly. "I… already cooked." He paused, seeming to tense for a blow, but Roy only rubbed his forehead.

"Sorry about that," he repeated.

Awkwardly, the blond boy moved what he'd been holding behind his back, showing Roy the plate of food he'd brought down—no meat. So Roy's then?

"I… didn't know where you were but… um, if you…"

"Thank you, Edward," Roy said, cutting off his anxious stuttering. Ed paused and blinked, staring at the Colonel for a moment before warily crossing the room and setting the plate on the table Roy was working at before hastily stepping away again.

"I—" Whatever Ed had been about to say seemed to be sidetracked as his golden eyes—wide with what looked like awe—took in the contents of the room. Brimming with full bookshelves on one side of the basement room, a few laboratory instruments on the table on the other side where Roy had forgotten to put them away last time he'd found his way down here; what, a month or two ago? It felt like longer than that.

"Like what you see?" Roy queried, and Ed jumped.

"I—um—yeah," he admitted, and turned back to the books with a worshipful stare. "This is a pretty good alchemy lab for being in someone's home."

Roy noticed that Ed's constant hesitation every time he talked seemed to evaporate as he spoke of the alchemy lab. A long time familiarity with said alchemy would probably do that, he thought. "I spent a lot of my time getting this set up," he explained, then frowned. "I haven't really used it for a while…" He'd tended to go on more dates with women than he had used their names in his notes.

Ed seemed to be drifting against his own will towards the side of the room with all the books. He reached up for one and traced the spine gently with his finger.

"You're allowed to read the books," Roy told him, causing the blond boy to jump. "I trust you'll treat them with proper respect."

Ed didn't hesitate in taking down a large tome and settling himself on the floor right where he was standing and opening it, immediately beginning to read. Roy blinked and watched for a moment, then said, "You can sit down in the armchair about four feet behind you."

The blond boy didn't move, and Roy realized he couldn't hear him—he'd done one of those miracle submersions where it was only him and the book in the whole world. With a light chuckle, Roy turned back to his research.

Eventually, Ed gave a small snort and closed the book. Glancing over out of the corner of his eye, Roy saw him roll his eyes and replace the book on the shelf. Apparently he'd seen something he didn't like. The blond boy scanned the bookshelf in front of him, running his flesh fingers lightly over the titles on the spines. After passing through two rows, he paused and sucked in a little gasp, pulling out a large, ancient-looking tome. Roy recognized it and smirked.

"You have _Histories of the Four Elements_?" Ed nearly squeaked. "That went out of print years ago!" Wide golden eyes swiveled to stare incredulously at Roy, who schooled his features into a less smug expression. Easy, once he remembered where he'd gotten it.

"I received that book from my alchemy teacher shortly before he died."

Ed paused and his shoulders slumped. His golden eyes dimmed and he bit his lip. "I'm sorry," he said softly, and his feet did that strange little shuffling thing like he wanted to run away—he was nervous again. Roy fought his facial muscles for a smile and won; Ed seemed to relax a little more as his guardian smiled gently rather than any negative reaction.

"It's alright. Everything has their due time, I suppose."

Ed's eyes darkened and he looked away, his shoulders hunching. Roy internally winced; that had to be a painful reminder of his and his brother's stupidity and ignorance of the law when they tried to bring their mother back. Ed gave a little hum in agreement, then turned deliberately away from Roy. The boy's flesh fingers stroked the worn leather cover of the tome and he shuffled over to the armchair—apparently the floor had been too cold or dirty for him.

Roy found himself watching the oblivious blond alchemist for longer than he meant to. Ed made and almost comical picture, feet not even touching the floor from where he seemed to disappear in the comfortable cushion on the armchair. The huge tome was spread across his lap and the blond head was leaning over the pages, bangs brushing almost down to the pages. He was going to go blind as a bat before he reached twenty-five, Roy decided, if he kept reading like that.

But he didn't say anything. Maybe someday. But for now… this seemed as peaceful as it had ever been as of late.

Pages turned in Ed's armchair, a pencil scribbled at Roy's desk and a speck or two of juice from a tomato dripped onto the Flame Alchemist's notes. There was no clock down here—a silly oversight on Roy's part, but he couldn't ever seem to bring himself to ruin the perfect quiet by introducing a ticking timepiece to this silence. Perhaps that was why, when he eventually thought to pull out his pocket watch to check the time, it was nearly ten o'clock. He sighed and set his pencil down, rising from the desk; this wasn't anything he couldn't finish up tomorrow, just the grunt work of translating a few ideas from the books into his own code.

He stopped as he looked to Ed and cleared his throat pointedly, not wanting to interrupt him too rudely. But the blond didn't hear him, apparently: he was as absorbed as ever in the huge book on his lap.

"Ed." No answer. "Edward." Still nothing.

Sighing, Roy made his way over to Ed and tapped the edge of the book; Ed gave a small sound of surprise and sat bolt upright, wide golden eyes jerking up from their fixation on the book to stare.

"It's nearly ten o'clock," Roy told him. "Time to turn in."

Ed nodded slightly and didn't move. Realizing what he was waiting for, Roy moved away until the blond boy deemed the distance enough and made to stand. He set the tome almost reverently on the armchair and eyed it regretfully before slowly moving towards Roy and the door. Ever an Elric: ever unbelievably reluctant to leave a book behind.

"You can bring it up to your room if you want," Roy offered, and Ed paused mid-step and brightened considerably.

"Really?"

"Yes," Roy assured. "Just please don't get anything on it."

Ed eagerly bounded back to the armchair and lifted the heavy volume—again the Colonel found humor in its unusually large size in comparison to Ed's unusually small one.

"I'll be… careful," Ed said, beginning the pledge in a bright tone then backing off to a murmur as he actually met Roy's eyes. There was nothing threatening in the dark blue irises, their owner knew, but Ed was skittish and timid all the same. But Roy was okay with that, all things told; it wouldn't be permanent, he had determined.

"I'm sure you will be." And a while ago that sentence might have been laden with obvious sarcasm, but no longer.

They made their way up the staircase leading out of the basement library laboratory to the main level of the house, Roy walking first and Ed hovering three steps below on the stairs. When they reached the staircase leading up to their respective rooms, however, Roy paused and turned to face his young charge.

Ed was hugging _Histories of the Four Elements_ tightly to his chest, his shoulders hunching slightly and his eyes sharpening as Roy halted their progress and turned to face him. Vigilant and somewhat fearful, as he always seemed to be.

"Edward, I know…" Roy hesitated. "I know that you probably don't want to talk about what… what Hinze did." Ed took a wary step back, confirming the Colonel's beliefs. "And I'm also pretty sure that you wouldn't even consider talking about it to me. But I think—well, Maes thought, and I do too, but—"

Roy stopped again, ran a hand through his hair. Glanced at Ed to see his reaction to his little speech so far. Defensive, as far as he could see, closing himself off.

"I think it would be a good idea for you to talk to someone completely detached," Roy said finally, recalling what Maes had said of his reasoning for the psychologist proposition. "Someone like a psychologist."

"So now I'm mentally ill?" Ed said quietly, the hurt and betrayal clear in his tone.

Roy shook his head. "You don't have to be crazy to go to a psychologist, Ed."

"Of course not," Ed whispered, but his eyes were still distrustful. The boy had apparently been firmly entrenched in the idea that no argument means no need to put any blame or blows on his person, but he still obviously didn't believe Roy.

There was an awkward silence as Roy tried to figure out what to say to change the blond's mind. "Some of the people you know have been to psychologists," he said at last.

"Like who." It wasn't exactly a question, stated more as a timid order.

"Me," Roy volunteered.

Golden eyes widened. That had certainly seemed to blindside the younger alchemist.

"The war," he supplied, seeing the question in Ed's eyes. "Worked its hell on quite a few of the people you know. Me. Hughes. Hawkeye. I think I might have been the only one to actually get to a psychologist afterward, due to Maes dragging me there by force once a week. And I'm fairly sure Armstrong saw one as well, considering he basically had a complete breakdown."

Roy paused. "I don't pretend to know what exactly you're trying to deal with. I don't pretend to think I can really help you in every way you need. I'm doing the best I can"—_there, see? Now you know that_—"but I think it would be better for you to have a chance to talk to an individual detached from the situation then to try to tackle everything at once and dump it out on someone nearer. Do you think you could work with that?"

The Colonel had given a few speeches in his time, either painstakingly prepared or thought of right on the spot. This seemed to be the most revealing and sappy speech he'd given in at least half a decade, but he was okay with that, he decided.

It's not like Ed had anyone to tell, really.

Slowly, the blond nodded; it was an uncertain motion, but the agreement was something Roy could work with. "Um… how soon?"

"Maes already scheduled you for one on Tuesday," Roy admitted sheepishly, and Ed balked. "Sorry," the Colonel apologized, "but he'd already done it. I figured the best I could to would be to give you a heads up."

Ed huffed a little, but nodded. Roy waited for him to say something for just a moment more before turning and beginning up the stairs again.

"M… Mustang?" Ed's voice was incredibly nervous and Roy saw the same expression reflected on his face as the dark-haired alchemist looked over his shoulder to face him.

"Please, just Roy in this house," he said smoothly, hoping that would help just a little bit.

Ed took a deep breath. "How long did you go to the psychologist?"

Roy thought for a moment, even though the answer came immediately to mind. "Three months. Then I decided I didn't need that, because I had something else to work past it for."

Seeming to be thinking hard, Ed nodded. "Okay." He took in a sharp breath and said, "Roy—um—I—" His mouth opened and closed like a codfish. Roy waited expectantly. "Night," the blond finally whispered, but Roy could tell that hadn't been what he'd been about to say. He moved aside to let Ed pass, still hugging the large book to his chest.

The blond head disappeared around the corner. The sun turning in to prepare for the battle of another day.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Drop a line if you feel so inclined.<strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	9. IX

**Here we are! A million thanks to AprilJoy for betaing this chapter, and FMA belongs to the cow. And I mean that in the best possible way. :)**

**By the way: There's a scene with a psychologist in this chapter, and I don't know exactly how a psychologist session works. I can take my best guess, but that's about it. I'm sorry about that, but I will do my best to make this as realistic as possible anyhow—if I somehow screw things up drastically with the psychologist scene, please tell me what I did wrong and I will do my best to fix it. (However, I think I did okay. XD)**

* * *

><p>Half-past four. Roy eyed the clock again in frustration and continued attempting the impossible: convincing Riza Hawkeye to let him out twenty minutes early without uttering a single lie.<p>

A slight wrench in the endeavor was the fact that he'd lied to do this very thing so many times that Hawkeye was simply giving him a hard glare, apparently not convinced.

"I'm telling the truth," he promised patiently. "Ask Maes if you don't believe me. Ed has an appointment with a psychologist at five thirty on the dot, and no, it wasn't me who scheduled it. That was also Maes."

The Lieutenant continued with her glaring and then scooped up the telephone on his desk, fingers punching out a familiar pattern, the number to Maes' office phone. She waited patiently for him to pick up, expertly derailed the man from a lengthy tangent on the virtues of his family, and managed to confirm Roy's story within three minutes.

Even after she hung up, she was still glaring at him.

Roy fidgeted uncomfortably; the identity of the officer in charge of this situation seemed to have switched.

"Fine," Hawkeye dismissed brusquely, suddenly enough to make Roy jump slightly. "But sir, do try to reschedule his next appointment so it won't interfere with your workday."

Hawkeye was the absolute expert at the evil eye, Roy had discovered, and he found himself retreating hastily with his tail under his legs, scurrying out the door like a whipped dog. At least there were no new bullet holes in the wall—those had been rather hard to explain the time a General came in before the team had a chance to repair the damage.

Or, even better, there was no sudden hole in Roy's skull to aerate his brain. Not that he expected there to be, for something this small, but he promised himself that he'd always keep a sharp watch.

As with everything else.

Ed was sitting on the couch when Roy got home from the office, watching the clock expectantly and turning mechanically towards the door as Roy pushed it open.

The blond boy stood. "Is it… time…"

A week and a half, and Ed still couldn't seem to get through a full sentence without hesitating or stumbling or such. Roy simply nodded, not even bothering to take his boots off—he exchanged his military coat for a calf-length woolen one and gestured toward the door. Ed followed him out to the car again.

Roy had assumed that Ed was as prepared as he was going to get, or at least didn't care much about the psychologist sessions much either way. Judging by the anxious shifting in the passenger seat, however, that was not the case. Suddenly, the blond seemed to have regained his previous inability to sit still, tapping on the window with gloved automail in a random rhythm, alternately picking at the end of his sleeves and hem of his shirt. By the time they actually got to Dr. Burke's practice, Roy was getting the sinking feeling that Ed's nervousness probably meant that this meeting wasn't going to go over very well.

And by the shifty, cornered look in Ed's eyes as he reluctantly edged into Dr. Burke's office, Roy felt his own anxiety pick up at his sudden conviction that this really might not even _start_ alright, much less end that way.

* * *

><p>Dr. Burke looked friendly enough. Of course, that was his goal—no need to look grumpy and close the patient off before he even got started. Not that his patient seemed to be reacting very well to that, though he hadn't expected him too.<p>

He'd gotten some information from the man who'd scheduled this appointment on what exactly had happened to this new patient of his. That man had been fairly sharp: told him straight facts, what they knew about the abuse the boy had gone through, and hadn't bothered to state his own opinions on it. He'd also given a straight rehearsal of how the patient had been acting since they'd discovered this, which had helped some.

Burke was fairly sure that this Mr. Hughes was used to giving complete reports, whether for the military or for someone else, not that he'd pry. He was grateful for it, however. It made helping the patient that much easier.

Dr. Burke folded his hands together and leaned back in his comfortable chair, smiling casually at the blond boy perched on his leather couch like a bird about to take flight. Burke's chair wasn't actually behind the desk—that gave the impression of teacher and student, right and wrong, superior and subordinate (a sensation surely familiar to this particular boy), and a detachment that detracted from what Burke was trying to do here. No, his chair was at the side of his desk: he leaned his right elbow on it, he could scribble away his notes on it, but there was no awkward desk obstructing the 'flow' of friendly communication and neither was he so close as to evoke a nervous gut reaction.

"Hello," Burke greeted amiably. "What's your name?"

The boy's eyes narrowed slightly and he glanced down to the desk, no doubt where he expected his file to be. "Don't you have that written down somewhere?"

Burke found his smile widening slightly. "Yes, I do. But friendly conversations are always much more interesting…" He made a show of checking his file before looking again at the boy. "Edward."

Edward shifted in his seat. Body language and facial expression suggested the emotional dichotomy of wanting to straighten and protest as well as shrink back into the couch cushions. He chose neither, remaining silent, but it was still an obvious indicator that he was _not_ comfortable with the arrangement of this session.

Finally, the boy responded, slumping further into the seat. "Call me Ed. People who call me Edward are generally trying to kill me," he stated flatly.

Burke was good, but assuredly not used to dealing with a child in the military at the tender age of fourteen—and he'd been there since he was twelve. The burden he bore was a heavy one, surely.

"I'm Dr. Burke. But please, call me Jordan."

Edward—no, Ed was still eyeing him somewhat distrustfully. "I'll stick with Burke, thanks." And then a barely noticeable tensing of his muscles, like he was preparing for a sudden attack, verbal or otherwise.

Jordan Burke didn't move from his chair in the slightest, belying Ed's worries, but did sketch down a quick note—_muscle tension, fear of negative reaction to his refusal to comply with simple suggestion._ For that's what it seemed to be. Whoever's hand it was that Ed had suffered by had apparently attempted to beat the boy into accepting and complying with whatever they said. That would certainly be a serious cause of the kind of scarring Mr. Hughes had spoken of.

"You're welcome to," Burke offered, and let the silence sit for a moment in the possibility that Ed wanted to say anything. He didn't. "So how has your day been so far, Ed?" Start with non-invasive questions that get him talking.

Ed shrugged noncommittally, posture tense, and glared at the wall just over Burke's head. "Fine," he said tersely.

"Just fine?" Burke prodded. He received another shrug. "You know, we're in for a rather awkward hour here if I'm the only one making conversation."

Ed's gaze drifted away from the wall to rest properly on Burke's face; not incriminating or glaring, just searching with an almost disinterested air. "Way early this morning I woke up from a nightmare. I took a shower. I ate breakfast. Mustang went to work and I hung around and read a book. I made my own lunch. He came home and took me straight here." Again, that small rise and fall of his shoulders.

"What book were you reading?" Burke asked. Again, get him talking. The nightmare revelation was a start, of course, but asking about it now would in all likelihood not prove forthcoming.

"_Histories of the Four Elements_," Ed recited, again taking up his vigil of the patch of wall over Burke's head.

"What's it about?"

"Alchemy."

"You enjoy alchemy?"

Burke was treated to a scathing, incredulous look. "I'm a _State_ _Alchemist_."

Ah. Right. Stupid question. "Of course," Burke conceded. "The Fullmetal Alchemist. Youngest person to ever past the State Alchemic Exam."

Ed was still sullen, not looking buoyed at all at the mention of his accomplishment.

"Do you not like your job?" Burke tried.

"'Alchemist, be thou for the people.' A State Alchemist is a direct contradiction to the code of the common alchemist. We're supposed to be for the people, not for the military. I hate my job," Ed said flatly. "But I have my own reasons."

"Do you regret registering for your State Alchemist qualification?"

"I regret a lot of things," Ed retorted softly. And then fell silent, gazing almost longingly at the door. At least he didn't seem to want to cringe away anymore—some of the current looks made Burke believe that the famous People's Alchemist was about to skewer him with whatever alchemized weapon the boy could make within ten seconds. The blond had quite the fiery temperament, somewhat dampened though it was by the trauma he must have gone through.

He didn't seem to perceive Burke as much of a threat. Good.

Burke checked his notes again. "So I'm under the impression that you're currently residing in the home of Colonel Roy Mustang?"

Again, a slight stiffening. Just because Burke wasn't a threat was no reason to let his guard down.

"Apparently you haven't been lied to in that department."

"Do you like it there?" Burke asked conversationally, his eyes casually drifting up from his notes to look at Ed.

Ed snorted. "What kind of question is that?"

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Yet another shrug, and Ed kicked his feet up onto the couch. He was quick to adapting to the environment, it seemed, if he wasn't exactly relaxing into it. As every second went by, he seemed more snippy and fiery than the moment before. "I mean, what kind of question is that? It doesn't exactly matter if I _like_ it or not. I'm not getting my lights punched out or anything."

Burke sketched down another note.

"As opposed to your previous home?"

Ed's countenance abruptly switched from his growing brashness to a nervous retreat, one leg sliding to the floor as he pressed his back against the couch and dropped his eyes to the floor. His shoulders hunched slightly.

"I… it… um, it's different."

Burke nodded and hummed sympathetically. "I'm guessing that you don't miss where you were."

Ed let out a short, huffy laugh. "Well, 'course not. I…" He trailed off and his features scrunched into a somewhat confused frown. "I just…"

Burke let him sit for a few moments, but when Ed didn't say anything, he spoke. "What was that?"

"I just, I mean, I want—" Again Ed stopped himself and let out an explosive sigh. "I… don't know where my brother is."

A nod, sympathetic. "You two are close?" Burke questioned gently.

Ed nodded jerkily. "Yeah. He just—I don't know, he's just gone."

"Just gone?" Burke questioned. "He disappeared and you don't know how or where to?"

Ed shrugged. "I… it happened about two months ago, I think. And… I think I was there… I just—isn't there something that says trauma can block memories?"

The psychologist nodded, epiphany dawning. "You believe you were there, but you don't remember what happened to him."

Ed nodded miserably.

"I certainly hope you find him soon," Burke offered. "It must be hard without him." For his trouble in consoling the boy, he received a suspicious glare. What was the negativity from?

"I don't need your pity."

Ah. Pride. "I was offering my sympathy," Burke corrected, but Ed just quirked a skeptical eyebrow. "You get defensive very quickly," he noted.

The blond boy's eyes narrowed. "Yeah, well, you try going through what I have."

"And what might that be?"

"Why the hell would you care anyway?" Ed's voice was rough as he slumped further in his seat, avoiding eye contact with Dr. Burke. "Probably 'cause you're paid to, right?"

The psychologist tapped his pencil absently on the desk as he shook his head slowly. "No. I think it would do you some good to be able to talk about what happened in your previous home."

Ed snorted. "And if I don't want to?"

"Well, then I'm afraid this was a waste of your time."

The boy's shoulders tensed further; Burke was beginning to wonder if it was impossible that the boy's muscles might just snap from being coiled so tightly. "So should I just leave?" Ed challenged.

"I'd appreciate it if you would stay," Burke offered. Ed was still glaring at him—so suspicious. He probably wouldn't actually divulge anything that Burke could work with, not this session at least. Trust, of a sort at least, had to be built before Ed could really receive the help he needed.

Ed didn't budge except to tilt his head back and stare at the ceiling.

Burke glanced down at his notes yet again, the ones he'd taken on what Mr. Hughes had told him. "Edward, you don't have to answer any of my questions, okay?" he said calmly. "If you want to talk about any of them then you're free to, however."

He paused. "What was done to you in your previous home was a terrible thing. How do you feel about what happened?"

The golden gaze dropped from the ceiling to give Burke a level stare. "How do I feel?" Ed said softly, his eyes flashing. He sat up taller, growing more defensive—ah, Burke probably should have asked a less invasive question. "How do I _feel_? Well, damnit, how do you _think _I feel?" Ed's voice was growing louder. "He uses me as his little _bitch_, beats me up, hurts my brother, and—and—why should I even tell _you_ anything? Damn him and damn you too!"

Ed shot to his feet and made a beeline for the door, but he couldn't hide the flash of fear and distress on his face just before he turned away from the psychologist. "You know, I was told this would _help_, but apparently I was misinformed!"

And the boy stormed out of the office.

Burke sighed and slumped in his seat slightly. Pen out, scribble a few more notes on the sheet of paper in front of him… _Explosive reaction when asked how he felt about it all. Retains close attachment to his missing brother. Tendency to increase defensiveness as…_

Approximately four minutes later, Burke was satisfied, and tucked that particular folder away for next week.

* * *

><p>Roy sat reading a mindlessly dull magazine in an equally mindlessly dull waiting room. Goosebumps were raised on his arms due to the excessive air conditioning, but he really didn't want to put his military jacket back on. There was a rather jumpy-looking middle-aged woman sitting across the waiting room and tapping her foot anxiously, and Roy would rather not put on an intimidating air around her, especially when there was no one to impress.<p>

A door slammed in one of the hallways and Roy felt himself automatically looking up, feeling as if he were back in the office and a certain temperamental blond had just made his usual dramatic entrance from the military compound's hallways. Even with the recollection, however, he was still half-surprised when it _was_ proved to be Ed storming out of whatever room his psychologist was in. Looking just as angry as he always did in the office, if not also just a bit discomfited.

Ed seemed about to storm out the office altogether, but he stopped just before the door and glanced awkwardly at Roy, his fierce anger evaporating into his now-usual anxiety. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then jerked his head in a gesture towards the exit. Roy nodded and rose from his seat, setting the magazine back on the table and moving to walk by Ed's side as he shoved open the door to go outside.

"How'd it go?" Roy asked casually.

Ed scowled fiercely as he turned his head away. He didn't say anything.

"Not my cup of tea," Ed muttered sullenly, barely loud enough for Roy to catch the words.

"What didn't you like about it?" Roy asked cautiously.

The blond alchemist hissed out a short sigh. "Now _you_ sound like _him_."

Ah. Roy sighed internally—Ed never had responded well to probing questions, and for no wonder if he was hiding Hinze's abuse for the sake of his and his brother's secret. By now, avoiding that kind of thing like the plague had to be second nature to him.

Which meant that Roy should probably shut up right about now.

They got into the car, Ed climbing into the back to leave Roy feeling distinctly like some kind of chauffeur. The Colonel didn't mind enough to ask him to come up to the front, but he absently wondered if it meant something to Ed to be in the passenger seat as opposed to the back.

As they set out, Ed was stewing intensely; not unusual in and of itself, but he wasn't running his mouth in an accompanying rant. It was one of the many things that had changed, although Roy was seeing the old Ed more and more frequently, as if Ed just _couldn't_ keep all that anger hidden up inside. Like the anger really wasn't fake, this faux timidity was.

That contented Roy for now. So long as there was hope.

The Colonel growled silently in frustration as he saw the road in front of him, a few blaring lights, shattered glass and dented metal; this was the quickest way back to his house and someone just _had_ to go and completely ignore where the hell they were going… He shook himself and told himself that he was hoping no one had been seriously injured.

But it was still severely annoying.

Roy turned the car around, taking a side street in order to get to the next shortest route back to his home. He thought it was around here, anyway… Ah, yes, here we were. Down this street and then home was just two miles away.

He chanced to glance in the rearview mirror and saw Ed sitting ramrod straight, fidgeting ever so slightly. The boy was nervous, for whatever reason, and was staring out the window with a single-minded determination even as tension radiated off of him in nearly tangible waves. Roy frowned slightly but didn't have enough attention to spare to actually ask about it—it could wait until they got home, and then Ed could decide if they would talk or not.

"Oh God, no." Ed sounded choked, frozen with an as of yet unnamed fear. Roy glanced in the rearview mirror again sharply; Ed was staring ahead through the windshield, golden eyes wide with terror as he shrunk back into his seat. "Please, no, I—no, don't take me there—"

Roy's eyes flicked around the neighborhood they were driving through as well as he could without detracting too much of his attention from his actual driving. What could Ed possibly be reacting to? There was nothing—

Hinze's house. Just up ahead.

"Please, please, don't make me go back," Ed begged, his voice brought nearly all the way down to a whisper by his terror. "I don't—no, I didn't _do_ anything, don't—"

"You're not going back there, Edward," Roy said forcefully, and pressed his foot to the gas pedal. He passed through the rest of the neighborhood a little faster than was strictly legal, but the sooner he got away from this place and back to his home, the better.

"I would never take you back there, Ed," the Colonel soothed, glancing briefly at the blond boy through the mirror before again diverting his attention to the road. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Ed was shrunk back into the corner of the seat, the side of his head propped up against the glass. The golden eyes had squeezed shut by now and Ed's mouth was moving. Saying what, Roy had no idea, except that it was probably something along the lines of his miniature panic attack.

He was still less than responsive when they made it to Roy's house. The dark-haired alchemist was halfway to his front door before he realized that his was the only car door that had opened.

There wasn't much of a reaction when Roy opened the back door, except the fact that Ed shifted slightly in his position as he'd been leaning against the window before. His arms were wrapped around himself; breath came a too quickly for Roy to think there was any chance he was calm. Instinctively, he reached out to softly touch Ed's shoulder.

He kept forgetting that wasn't the best of moves. Luckily, the reaction was minimal as compared with the usual—Ed jumped and squeaked a little, his eyes shooting open.

"No no no no, please don't make me go back," Ed begged instantly, "he'll _hurt _me and I don't—"

"Edward, we're home," Roy told him gently but firmly, gesturing to the house behind him. There was a heartbeat, two, where Ed blinked and didn't seem to realize what he was talking about, and then his expression relaxed considerably as he seemed to process the sight of Roy's house there instead of Hinze's. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."

The blond's head bobbed tentatively, golden eyes still on the house as he shifted to slide out of his seat. Roy stood to the side and let Ed go first, handing him the key so he could unlock the door. They stepped inside and Roy hung his coat on the hook by the door, one side of his mouth twitching upward slightly as he saw how Ed gravitated naturally toward the kitchen. Probably hungry—upset or no, that boy could _eat_.

Roy started on a stew. He knew Ed hated milk, and so debated whether the boy would want to eat something else if he was putting it in the concoction, but Ed perked up when he saw what Roy was making, with no comment on the milk. A good sign, then.

Roy stirred the ingredients together in the pot and let it simmer on the stove, coming over to sit at the table near Ed until it was ready.

"So the psychologist was really that bad of an idea?" Roy asked casually, quirking an eyebrow at Ed.

Ed shrugged and crossed his arms, scowling at the table. "I just… you know, don't really get… why he'd care. So why talk?"

Roy hummed his understanding. "You think he's listening because it's his job."

"Well… isn't it?"

"I suppose," the Colonel said carefully. "But if you think about it, why would he make that his job if he didn't _want_ to listen and help?"

A pensive expression flickered across Ed's face. "I… guess he _does_ want to?"

Roy made a vague gesture with his hand. "Just a thought. Do you think you'll be up for going next week? It'll be at six instead of five thirty if you are, Hawkeye thought I was trying to skip out on work again."

Ed smirked ever so slightly at that. "Of course she did. I… um, well, sure. I guess so."

Roy let himself smile. "Thank you. I know it's not easy to bare any part of your soul to someone you don't really know. I really do hope it will help you."

They sat in companionable silence for a time, Roy rising when he thought the stew was done.

"It _is_ hard," Ed murmured quietly. "But thanks, I think."

Roy wasn't entirely sure he'd been supposed to hear that. So, being tactful as he was, he didn't reply aloud.

_You're welcome, I think_, Roy thought.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you, readers, for continuing to follow this story. XD Drop a line if you feel so inclined.<strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	10. X

**Parents who can't decide what they want, contracting the school/homework blues, encroaching finals, and wondering just what on earth you're actually supposed to **_**do **_**at the moment. Even though writing's a wonderful escape from real life, it still took forever to actually get around to this, and I'm sorry about that. Here, my friends, is the next chapter.**

**Partially in apology for being late, partially in response to popular demand, I attached the very last scene of this chapter. No, I'm not telling you what it is; read it yourself. XD Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Ed's first encounter with the psychologist seemed to put him in a thoughtful frame of mind. Roy reflected wryly that this, like a million other things he'd witnessed of the boy in the past few weeks, would have been utterly unthinkable before he really had been given the chance to see the personality apart from all that obnoxious anger. At other times, he wondered if that was exactly what the boy had planned all along: false bravado to cover the scars his stepfather gave him. But even if that did come into play somewhat, Roy was surprisingly grateful to find that the same temper was an innate part of the boy, even if Hinze had managed to bank that fire.<p>

The psychologist was not the only thing that kept Ed's considerable intelligence moving. Ever since the evening in the basement alchemy study, Ed had continued to pore over the thick tome of _Histories of the Four Elements._ Roy found himself pausing any time he walked between the kitchen and the rest of the house, feeling a slight smile—not smirk, but an actual fond smile, no matter how small—tug at one corner of his lips as he observed the nearly comical sight of Ed curled up on the couch like a cat. His hands were ungloved, and the flesh one fiddled with his bangs while the automail limb rested on his thigh, metal digits fingering the edge of the page in preparation to turn it. The gears turning in that incredible mind were almost visible from the outside as the blond alchemist devoted his single-minded attention to the huge volume.

Unless Roy was mistaken, Ed had read the whole thing through at least twice already, but he didn't mention it. Nor did he say a word whenever Ed looked at him shyly, fingers tightening around the book as if he were afraid he wouldn't be allowed to keep it. Ed enjoyed alchemy, and even if he _could_, Roy wouldn't take that away from him.

However, he probably should ban books from the kitchen, at least—Ed would either be absentmindedly wolfing down his meal so fast he choked and gagged up a half-chewed mess of meatloaf or his attention would be utterly derailed form his stomach and he'd be reading avidly, his fork tapping pointlessly against his plate. At least it reduced the stress of mealtimes compared to the moments where it seemed Ed was frightened at the prospect of breathing without Roy's permission.

Yes, maybe he should ban books from the kitchen, but not today. Ed sidled into the kitchen, huge tome held protectively to his chest, eyes bright and alert as they scanned the spotless place. Usually it would never be called tidy, but it was Thursday, and so Ed had managed to finish up an in depth clean of nearly the entire house yet again while Roy was at work. The Colonel had told him more than once already that the gesture was hardly necessary, but then Ed would blink up at him with a look almost _lost_ entering into his eyes and Roy had subsequently shut up.

It wasn't until Roy teasingly asked how he planned to reached the top of the cabinets and Ed replied that Al always did that bit—accompanied by a flash of pain across Ed's features and the blond's instant escape to his room—that the dark-haired alchemist understood that the cleaning was about as close as Ed was going to get to his brother at the moment.

But such thoughts of his currently missing brother seemed far from Ed's mind. He took a plate from Roy to help move things over to the table, already knowing with one was his by the presence of several strips of chicken. Ed's severe distrust from the incident on that Friday night seemed to have faded, but Roy didn't dare push it by initiating any kind of contact, even as simple as actually allowing their fingers to touch ever so briefly as the plates passed from one hand to the other. And it didn't escape the Colonel's notice that Ed maintained his personal bubble at a radius of fifteen inches at all times.

Dinner was always a fairly quiet affair. Ed wasn't one to initiate conversation with his guardian, and Roy was—generally speaking—perfectly alright with lengthy silences. It was only with his younger charge that they seemed to get awkward.

Roy opened his mouth to say something, cliché and boring but enough to break this silence, when Ed's eyes widened and his fork clattered to the table. The Colonel was instantly on alert, shifting in his chair—what was it _this_ time?—but Ed was only twisting in his seat to reach for _Histories of the Four Elements_, the book seated precariously on the kitchen counter behind him. His flesh digits brushed against the leather cover, just as his automail arm swept his plate to the edge of the table.

It teetered for a fraction of a second, and then the plate crashed to the floor and shattered.

_Calm, stay calm, Ed_, Roy begged mentally, remembering the last incident when any kind of cutlery had broken. The older alchemist stayed still, keeping his features in the same set they'd been in before the plate had shattered, hoping maybe that would lessen the blond boy's panic.

It wasn't to be. Ed rocketed out of his seat and fumbled his book, dropping it on the needle-sharp shards of glass and remnants of food. The blond skipped backwards a step, the broken pieces crunching under his automail foot, and he took in a quick breath as the glass punctured the underside of his flesh foot. His left hand flung out to clutch at the edge of the counter, balancing himself as he tried awkwardly to get out of the kitchen without putting pressure on the foot with glass in it.

Roy half-rose from his chair at the sight of a few specks of red on the tiled floor: blood. Ed cringed at the movement and nearly stumbled—

"Ed, stop."

The blond boy froze, golden eyes flicking up to Roy in fear before squeezing shut. His mouth moved silently, but Roy could imagine the words. Some variation of the general plea not to hurt him, that he was sorry… The Colonel's heart panged and he made his voice come out softer.

"Ed, you're bleeding. Just… hop up on the counter or something, alright? You're okay," he soothed. "It's just plate, remember? It doesn't matter."

Ed's mouth stopped moving and he took several steadying breaths. Finally, he nodded and braced his hands on the edge of the counter before managing to jump up to sit on it. Roy hesitated as he stood, then slipped out of the kitchen to grab a pair of sandals in the tiny closet near the front door. He stopped by the bathroom to grab a pair of tweezers and a few band-aids.

Why did he feel suddenly like he was taking care of a little kid? Sometimes it was so easy for Roy to think of this Ed as a completely different person from the brat he'd always had in his office. That was the boy who wouldn't let Roy come near enough to help with a ten-foot pole, much less a couple of band-aids.

Ed was craning his neck around as he came back into the kitchen, as if making sure Roy was really coming back in rather than leaving him stranded. Roy offered him a quick smile, but Ed swiveled his head to hide his face again.

It was with a strange type of fascination that Ed watched as Roy set the band-aids on the table and reached for his flesh foot. When the Colonel grabbed his ankle, the blond jerked away reflexively, banging his heel on the cabinets underneath the granite countertop. Dark blue eyes flicked away from his foot and up towards Ed's face; the younger alchemist looked away again.

"It's weird," he murmured. "No one's ever… When I was bleeding… I've always had to just—help myself."

"You're not alone anymore," Roy comforted, and too late saw the flash of pain the words brought. No matter how silent Ed might be about his current status as the only Elric brother, it certainly caused him pain to not know where his other half was. He _was _alone—and until they found Al, he still would be.

The Colonel reached again, cautiously, for the boy's ankle, and this time there was no negative reaction. Ed hardly even winced as Roy picked out the tiny shards imbedded in the sole of his foot, the golden gaze watchful. Roy finally stepped away, pocketing the last of the band-aids. Ed hopped off the table, and Roy opened his mouth to protest—he'd just gotten _glass _in his _foot, _what was he doing?—but Ed wasn't looking at him. He landed with a slight crunch, balanced only on his automail foot, however, so he'd obviously learned his lesson.

The boy clapped his hands together and touched his hands lightly to a majority of the shards, stretching his arms out to bring in as much of the original material as possible. The end result was probably a marginally thinner plate, but it looked as good as new and so Roy accepted it without comment, even as Ed flinched slightly as Roy's hands neared his own.

Ed picked up the fallen book almost reverently from where it had landed awkwardly on the tile. He closed it gently and brushed off a few crumbs that had stuck onto the leather cover, shooting a quick, nervous glance to Roy.

"It's fine," Roy said. "You didn't mean to. And besides, it's not even really damaged." There was a small chip out of the leather where a particularly large shard of glass had come up against it, but other than that there was hardly any mark on it at all—yet Ed looked as though he was expecting Roy to turn into Hinze and beat him.

There was no more conversation that night. Ed turned in early and Roy watched him go without a word.

* * *

><p>It wasn't until Friday morning, when Ed had been there for three weeks, that the question occurred to Roy. A pathetic amount of time, really: wasn't Ed <em>lonely<em>?

He almost gagged on the question, trying to correlate such a vulnerable emotion as loneliness with Ed. But when he thought about it… He had no friends his own age except Winry, if she even counted at the moment. He wasn't going to have any kind of contact with the team for another week and a half, and Al… previously the only one he could actually confide in whatsoever… was missing.

He was about to ask him, over breakfast, if there was something he would rather be doing than sitting around and _cleaning_ (of course there was, but what?) but Ed brought it up first.

"Must—ah, Roy?" Ed said timidly.

"Yes?"

"Um… While you're out today, can I—um, go… to the… library or something?" Ed didn't look up at Roy as he spoke. He'd set his fork down as well, but his automail hand tapped the table distractedly.

"You're welcome to," Roy assured. "Have fun." He immediately kicked himself for the trite phrase. It was more likely to be _interesting _than actually _fun_.

Ed brightened visibly at that, and when Roy left the house, he was contentedly curled up on the couch, _Histories of the Four Elements_ open on his lap.

Well, as close to content as he would get without Al there with him.

* * *

><p>It was dark. Very dark.<p>

Maybe it was the current lack of eyes, or maybe it really was pitch black.

It was also dead silent.

That was because of the absence of movement or breathing, he knew.

He must be going crazy—the nonstop _nothing_ everywhere around him. He wondered briefly if he was dead, had suddenly died when he wasn't paying attention, the millionth time the thought had crossed his mind. He didn't want to be dead. Who _wanted_ something like that? But he wondered, if he wasn't dead now, would being dead be more interesting?

He was making his head hurt with the circular questioning, and he didn't even _have_ a head.

He remembered what had happened sharply, in flashes, and wished he hadn't; he had been put here for his own protection. He knew that. Brother had found a way to keep him safe—but Alphonse had never wanted to see Ed quite that desperate.

Al was also afraid: Hinze had hurt Ed again. Al had heard shouts (why did Hinze think they'd told? Who would believe them? Who would they trust their lives to?) and Ed was _screaming_—an awful, scarring sound that Al never wanted to hear again—and much commotion. All had gone silent, after there were other voices. Was that Colonel Mustang? What was going on?

Ed had promised on their mother's grave that he'd come back for Al. He just… hadn't had the chance yet. It wasn't like Ed could possibly be… _dead_ or anything.

Right?

_No_. That thought was utterly forbidden. Even if it had already been so long—Al had started counting aloud and got to thirty-seven hours, seventeen minutes and fifty-six seconds before the fear of being here forever almost swallowed him and he had abruptly stopped counting.

Ed would come for him soon. He believed that. He _had_ to.

After all, he'd be stuck in the floor of Hinze's bedroom _forever _otherwise.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Drop a line if you should feel so inclined.<strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	11. Interlude

**Yeah, I think I'll be updating every other week from now on. I just can't manage to get it done every single Tuesday, plus I have a life, as does my beta. Biweekly updates, then, enjoy. And *cough* sorry about the ending for this one... Two weeks, I ask of you! Patience! XD**

**Randomness: I officially have a State Alchemist pocket watch. Smaller than I thought it would be, but it WORKS and is totally EPIC! Okay, I'm done now.**

**Thanks to all who have reviewed (still amazed at the review count here) and even if I didn't reply, know that I'm thankful. Thanks as always to AprilJoy for being a great beta and dealing with second-grade spelling mistakes since I was half-asleep when I typed this up from where I'd written it down... XD Enjoy the latest installment, my friends, a little interlude of sorts from our favorite blond shorty's point of view for a change.**

* * *

><p>Ed lay back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn't particularly tired, but it was best to escape his guardian's company before too long, and the excuse of sleep was a convenient one.<p>

_Histories of the Four Elements_ rested on his stomach, a comforting weight. That book—if it wasn't _the_ source of all his confusion, then it was certainly the symbol of it. Not the alchemy—it was fascinating, but not a great deal more complicated than some of the texts he and Al (his throat closed; _don't think, don't think like that, he'll be fine_) had discovered in the library.

That wasn't the confusion. What had Ed so baffled was that this book was a priceless tome and _Mustang _had allowed _him_ to read it. The boy lower than dirt in the eyes of the two fathers he'd had, abandoned by one and beaten and used by the other. Ed couldn't count the times, even before Mom died, that Hinze had snarled at him not to touch the expensive vases—or the materials on Hinze's desk—or the books—Ed and Al just went to the library for books or information.

But the library didn't hold books like this one. Out of print for more than two decades, the only reason Ed even knew what it was called was because he'd thoroughly examined Van Hohenheim's laboratory during the last two months of his life in Risembool, and that book had been one of the several important-looking tomes tucked away in a corner of the lab. Important—rare—valuable—

Mustang was letting him look at it all he wanted and was so far showing no signs of impatience or resentment.

The golden-eyed boy let out a puffy sigh, lifting his bangs into the air before the strands fell limply down again. _Danger_, his mind was screaming at him. Danger to trust a man with this much power over him. Should Mustang so choose, Ed would be on his way back to Hinze in an instant, or the Flame Alchemist himself could hurt Ed. He was vulnerable, as before, as he would be until he got Al's body back (he choked back the brief urge to cry) and got the hell out of here. He had to stay on guard, couldn't trust Mustang, no matter what Burke had told him gently during their second session earlier today.

Mustang, who'd said to call him Roy.

Ed dragged _Histories of the Four Elements_ up from his stomach to his chest, wrapping his arms around the leather binding to hug the volume like it was a teddy bear. As close at Ed would get to one, certainly—something solid to hold onto through confusion, even if the book was _part_ of it.

Mustang (Roy?) made no sense. He'd turned Ed into a dog of the military, made it perfectly clear that the Fullmetal Alchemist was just another piece to use in his game. Another pawn to throw away when its use had expired. But within two months, Al was fast friends with the entire team, and Ed found himself helplessly drawn into it. He fought; anger had always distanced unwanted friendliness before, but this time they seemed to come swarming back (Havoc sniggering, Hawkeye's eyebrows raised) as soon as his tantrum abated.

Their secret had come out six months into Ed's military service. He'd expected his execution order within a week. When it hadn't come, he'd confronted Mustang about it, nervous as hell but not wanting to stand there waiting and not knowing.

And that was when the dangerous seeds of _trust_ had started. Mustang brushed it off with the same excuse he'd used for bringing Ed into the military: he was apparently saving Fullmetal for later use—but that hadn't convinced Al, and though Ed _tried so hard_ to believe it… in the end… Mustang wasn't just a distant superior officer. Ed could grit his teeth and gripe about the womanizing slave-driver, but that office, that _one _place in Headquarters, in all of Central—it was _safe_, the closest thing Ed had to call a home.

And what did that make Mustang?

It wasn't the first time that Ed had considered the possibility that all that had changed of his and Mustang's situation was that Mustang was no longer ignorant of Ed's relation with Hinze and they'd moved from the office to Mustang's home. Well, and all that stuff with the nightmares and the meat and all these _complications_ on how much to _trust_ Mustang and just how to _not_ trust him as much as possible.

He'd let this slip to Burke—a stupid accident, really, but these sessions were confidential, weren't they? Burke had suggested trusting Mustang exactly how much he felt he should. The problem with that was that Ed didn't _know_ 'exactly how much he felt he should.'

Ed sat up, reluctant to think of such things for any longer. He hefted _Histories of the Four Elements_ onto the neat little bedside table—it seemed to quiver under the weight of the tome. He swung his legs over the side, pausing to stroke the spine of the book fondly. That tiny chip in the leather on the spine from the glass; he fingered it, but felt no fear as he had earlier, just a kind of slight bewilderment.

Then he stood, dragged the covers and pillow off the bed, and arranged a small sleeping place in the corner where the closet door, pulled open, would shelter him from direct view of the doorway that opened into the hallway—a useless precaution, considering he'd locked the door as usual.

(_Too many nights hoping with bated breath and cracked-open eyelids as Hinze stared hungrily from the doorway, _please go away don't hurt me go away…)

Ed curled up on the floor, his blankets wrapped snugly around him. His head rested on the pillow, but he didn't close his eyes straight away. The nightmares would come, as they always did, and he would rush off to try to clean himself of Hinze's filth, to be helped out of the tub by Mustang.

Yet another nudge towards trusting him. Ed dearly wished for just one night of respite, even if he knew it wouldn't come; Roy's steady arm to lean on was the next best thing.

With that thought—whether comforting or not even Ed didn't know—the blond alchemist, far too old for his years, closed his eyes.

* * *

><p><em>It was silent—his dreams always were. Ahead of him, his mother walked as though she could hear the music, making her way up the aisle. Hinze stood ahead, waiting for her.<em>

_It wasn't a memory. At the real wedding, Hinze had been neat in his uniform, Trisha beautiful in Auntie Sara's old dress. In this dream, Hinze's uniform was sloppy, his eyes gleaming in a way that showed Ed enough to know his breath would smell of alcohol had the blond been near enough to sniff it. Trisha was wearing her waitress's outfit, her uniform before she'd met Hinze. They'd been dirt poor for it, especially when she'd been fired… But homeless would have been preferable to Hinze._

_Ed didn't need to look over to know that Al was sitting by him, a wide-eyed five-year-old, ecstatic that Mom was finally looking cheerful again. Both of them dressed in their best clothes, small, uncomfortable starched suits that Hinze had bought for 'the sake of his new sons.' These they'd actually worn to the real wedding, too, and young Ed had hated it. He'd never liked Hinze, (_never never never_, he'd pouted at age six, three days before the wedding) but even he hadn't thought that…_

_The dream seemed to move in slow motion as Trisha made her way up the aisle; finally, she took her place at Hinze's side._

_The dream abruptly sped up. Quick as a viper, Hinze lashed out with a fist and sent Trisha to the ground with a crippling blow; as she hit the ground, she gasped, her hair ink black and jaw gaping as bare bone ribs heaved (_no no no we left that thing in the basement) _and she reached out a hand for her son, begging for mercy, before it fell limply to splash in a puddle of her own blood. Hinze's laugh was cold and cruel, his eyes gleaming a demonic red and dancing with malicious mocking as he watched Al turn from an increasingly horrified five-year-old to a towering suit of metal._

_Ed knew this was a dream, knew he couldn't control himself, but felt the anguish all the same as his own body leapt at the armor, clawing at the soul seal. Empty armor clanked as it fell, Ed clutching at a circle of metal with the soul seal inscribed. _No…_ His vision was going black, he was looking through a dark tunnel, and he felt, rather than saw, Hinze near behind him, _far too close—

(A boy writhed in a cluster of blankets in the corner of a room, blond hair mussed, panting for breath as his lips formed words of distress, but no sound escaped him.)

_He knew what was coming, not this nightmare again—please wake up, _let me wake up (_he knew he never did)_ not again—

A scream, not his own, pierced the fog of his nightly terror,and he woke with a start. His chest heaved as he sat bolt upright, continued mouthed words of protest tumbling out of his mouth even though there was no voice to let them be heard. It took him several seconds to realize that the scream that jerked him from his dream was still going, still not his own.

An icy hand gripped his heart. Roy was the only other person in the house.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Drop a line if you feel so inclined. XD<strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	12. XI

**So. As of right now, summer is kicking my butt... Well, it'll get better from here on out, and hopefully I can get these chapters to cooperate with me on becoming a little longer. Still utterly flabbergasted at the review count - thanks so much to everyone who reads this, whether you leave a word or not. It's very encouraging. In fact, we've officially reached 200 FLIPPIN' REVIEWS! ...And as ever, hugest thanks to my beta so when I post this I don't feel like a complete idiot worrying about stuff that apparently doesn't sound _too_ stupid... Thanks, AprilJoy!**_  
><em>

**Enjoy the story.**

* * *

><p><em>Heat. Explosions. Screaming. Blood. Sand. Fire.<em>

_Roy Mustang stood on a swell in the never-ending desert sand, casting his gaze around. They were refugees, trying to flee the devastation and destruction of their people. Dark-skinned, a white shock of hair atop their heads and sometimes trailing long down their backs, red eyes filled with fear, hate, recrimination. It was his job to end these eyes, this skin and hair, these very lives._

_There was an explosion far to his left—Kimblee. Pieces of bodies went flying as screams tore at the air. The crowd surged away from the destruction, new faces blurring past them, and he raised his hand and _snapped_. Again and again. Fire, blood sand._

Nightmare_, Roy Mustang realized distantly. So distantly. Why were his fingers still snapping? He didn't want to snap anymore, he didn't want to kill. Right?_

_One of them stopped, shoved out of the crowd to fall at his feet. Not burned yet, but that would soon be remedied—he wasn't Ishbalan, this one at his feet. Blond. Yellow, no, gold, long hair loose and draped over a thin, shaking body. The child (he recognized the body size, this child couldn't be older than twelve) looked up and stared at him with wide, golden eyes. Those eyes (Ed's eyes) held the same abject terror he'd discovered every time the General was mentioned, but this time that horror was for Roy only._

_He snapped._

_No! he screamed mentally, but his own body wouldn't listen to his orders. He snapped again, and again—Ed was no longer on his hands and knees on the sand, but twisting, writhing, screaming, _burning_. Roy Mustang continued snapping, desecrating this boy, this sorry creature who dared to reside near—_

—_no, no, no! This was Ed! Roy tried to recoil, but the gloves had taken on a life of their own. Even as he tried to rip them off. Then he realized—he couldn't. They were fused to his skin. His hands, they were still _snapping_._

_Ed was still burning. "Please, please, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," he shrieked, and somehow his golden eyes continued to stare in abject terror even as the flames ate up his hair and the skin of his face._

_Roy screamed and lurched away, falling into the sand._

Roy sat bolt upright and fell out of his bed flailing, screaming and covered in sweat.

For a long moment, he remained on the floor, on all fours, his arms trembling. Just a dream. It was only a dream…

Roy staggered to his feet and through the door, slipping into the bathroom to splash his face with water from the sink. His dark eyes were still wide with horror, his hands were still shaking. Taking a steadying breath, he gripped the counter tightly, his knuckles white. The face staring back at him from the mirror was haunted, ghosts flaring in his eyes. That chest was heaving, as if the person through the glass had run miles to get here, staring back at him. Water dripped down to splash on the counter, and dark hair stuck plastered and wet to his forehead.

Calm down, Roy told himself. It's time to calm down now.

He turned jerkily to move out of the bathroom and saw a quick flash of gold disappear at the edge of the doorway. He shook his head; probably just residual hallucinations from the nightmare, what would Ed be doing out of his room anyway? Then his mind recalled the image of Ed as it had been in the dream and shuddered, stumbling quickly out of the bathroom—he couldn't look at himself any longer. Couldn't look into the eyes of a murderer.

In the hallway, he found himself unable to go back into his room and attempt to sleep. He had very little hope for any shut-eye, anyhow, not after a nightmare like that. Leaning against a wall in the hallway, he slid down to the floor so he was sitting on the carpet. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and drew in another shaky breath before looking up.

Golden eyes peeked out from the dark depths behind a cracked-open door. Ed's room. Judging by how low to the ground the peeking eyes were, Ed was crouching, watching like a frightened animal. Roy rested his elbows on his knees and gazed back at him, attempting to summon a smile. It was weak, but he hoped it showed as a friendly expression rather than a pained grimace, which would have been a more accurate illustration of what he was actually feeling.

Ed retreated slightly, so only one golden orb stared through a somewhat narrowed gap between the door and the frame. Frightened.

Roy dropped the attempted smile, feeling so, so tired. His eyes drifted over to stare absently through the still-open doorway to the bathroom and saw the towels on the wall reflected in the mirror. Reflection. Why was every failure in his life reflecting each other? Ishbal was an utter disaster on his mind, this new situation with Ed was out of his depth about ninety-eight percent of the time…

There was the slight creak of a door hinge in front of him, and Roy turned to see Ed creeping out of his bedroom. The blond boy paused as Roy's dark gaze met his bright one, but slowly moved forward and shut the door behind him. Ed's eyes remained fixed on Roy as he slid down against the wall to mimic the Colonel's position, sitting against the plaster wall across the hallway. Roy stared back at him for a moment, noting the tense shoulders and wary eyes, and looked despairingly at the carpet.

Marvelous. Weeks into this and he still felt like an utter failure. And wasn't he?

Ed shifted; he was fidgety, unusually so, and that was enough to draw Roy's attention back. "You screamed," Ed said softly, almost a whisper. Caution saturated his tone and face, but his posture was perched precariously in the awkward position he'd set himself in: his knees were drawn to his chest, but he'd tilted himself forward, supporting himself on his hands, leaning towards the Colonel across the space of the hallway.

There was a brief silence, and Roy considered the question of whether Ed wanted an answer back or not. Probably so, he decided. "Yes," he said aloud. A regretful pang to his heart twisted the corner of his mouth. "I'm a soldier. Most soldiers who've ever seen a battlefront relive the terror in their minds while asleep."

Ed was weighing the silence, Roy figured, from the indecision in his eyes. "Long time ago," he noted softly. A short, clipped sentence, but the meaning was clear.

The Colonel gave a parody of a smirk, a sick tilt of his mouth. "Some things have a tendency to hang around your head. They've come and gone for years, for me. I haven't had a nightmare in…" He frowned. "…a little over a week. Not a huge time gap, come to think."

"You?" Ed breathed disbelievingly. "Nightmares?"

Roy could easily see where the incredulity was coming from. Except for the incident with the meat, Ed hadn't ever seen him as _weak_, really. For so long, the dark-haired man had held himself aloof from the boy, striving to be someone that, frankly, he wasn't. He _cared_ about Ed, but he'd never let it show. He'd hardly been human to that boy, not someone he could latch onto. And now his distance was dissolving. Maybe that was a good thing—Roy certainly hoped so, because he couldn't take another bad turn occurring now. His smile was now somewhat more real, if somewhat self-depreciating.

"Yes, Edward," he said softly. "I have nightmares too. Doesn't everyone have demons that haunt them?"

Ed blinked slowly and stared at Roy. There was no longer excessive tension hunching the boy's shoulders or shielding his eyes; he looked like an average, normally curious boy. Then he bit his lip and scooted closer, wrapping his arms defensively around his knees as he continued to watch Roy.

"What… what do you see? When you close your eyes?"

Ed seemed honestly curious, but the question was hesitant as well. Roy bit his lip hard as the images came back, hitting him like physical blows as singular images stuck out. Red eyes dissolving in heat. Dark skin bubbling over as flames licked bones clean. That innocent, golden shape writhing on the sand…

The Colonel sucked in a breath and shut his eyes tight. After a moment, managing to make the grotesque pictures flee, he opened his eyes again, seeing the nervous expression Ed's face had adopted.

"Fire," he said quietly. "Blood. People dying in the desert. People I killed." He wondered how badly the guilt ravaged his tone in Ed's ears, and if the stricken look on the boy's face really did the admittance justice. Roy swallowed thickly. "You were there," he whispered, and he didn't know why he said anything, because wasn't it hard enough for the kid to trust him already? "I… I hurt you…" his voice broke and his eyes were wide, staring at the wall. "I hurt you," he whispered, horrified, shaking his head at the very thought of that screaming, begging boy in his nightmare, the boy that was actually sitting right here in front of him.

"But you didn't," Ed breathed, so quietly Roy almost didn't hear. He looked down at the blond boy in surprise, saw him edging ever closer. Long pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt with a short sleeved one over the top—no surprises, not until the boy reached toward his face and brushed the edge of his sleeve under Roy's eye. The cloth came away slightly darker than before, and Roy touched a hand to his face to see that his cheek was damp.

Shit, he'd been crying, in front of _Edward_.

But the boy didn't seem to mind. In fact, he had moved close enough that Roy could have reached out to touch his shoulder, just an arm's length away. Ed paused there, leaned back against the wall, and simply stared at Roy for a while. His eyes drifted shut. For a long moment, Roy was left blindsided by the strangely peaceful encounter.

"Aren't you going to go to bed?" Roy asked softly. Ed opened a lazy eye and stared at him, before closing it again slowly.

"No." Funny, there was absolutely no reaction to the forbidden mention of the dreaded word 'bed' coming from Roy's mouth. "Sleep on the floor most of the time anyway," he whispered drowsily.

Roy blinked. "On the floor? Is there something wrong with the mattress?"

"Yeah," Ed admitted. "Couch was always as soft as the floor, back… there. And it was always the couch… or the roof… or—_his_ bed."

Hinze. Roy's stomach dropped. "Is that what all your nightmares are about?"

Silence. Then, "Most."

Slowly, Ed Ed's eyes opened and he leaned forward again to properly appraise Roy. The Colonel stared back, as non-threatening as he could manage, and finally, put out a hand in a familiar gesture to shake.

Ed blinked blankly at the proffered appendage. Looked up at Roy's face suspiciously. Back down to the hand.

Roy brought the corners of his mouth upwards into the closest thing he could currently achieve to a smile. Ed face didn't seem quite willing to respond, and he simply stared.

Then, finally, an automail hand extended to latch onto his own. There was one firm shake, and then the grip disappeared with Ed back into his room.

Roy finally smiled a true smile. "So glad we understand each other, Edward," he whispered.

* * *

><p>It was tempting, oh so tempting, to pretend to sleep in again and have Ed cook his breakfast once Roy was already gone. Roy didn't want to have to face his own issues in the morning—he never did.<p>

But now… maybe Ed would understand. Maybe after last night, Ed would understand Roy's problems, whether either of them wanted to or not. It really wasn't fair to Ed to continue avoiding him at times like this.

So Roy pulled himself out of bed and went to make breakfast.

Ed wandered in about six o'clock, peeking over to see Roy snatching some hot toast from the toaster. Quickly, he shuffled over to his seat and sat down to watch. When Roy almost dropped a dish on the way over to the table, he was up on his feet and had caught it before it had fallen two inches. Roy gave him a quick thankful smile for the catch, which Ed hesitantly returned.

The small smile dissipated somewhat when he noticed that the dish contained oatmeal. Roy hid a smirk as Ed cautiously poked at it with his spoon, then glanced up to Roy.

"Yes?" Roy asked calmly.

"Do you… like, eat this plain?" Ed seemed to be struggling for nonchalance, but his nose was wrinkled up almost subconsciously in an obvious gesture of what he thought of _that_ idea.

"There's cinnamon and sugar in the cupboard next to the fridge," Roy supplied. "And if you want it creamier, there's probably some milk in—" He ended his sentence prematurely as he noticed Ed give an animated shudder of disgust. "What, you don't like milk?"

Ed shook his head firmly. "Couldn't ever drink something secreted from a cow." And then he slipped out of his chair and over to the cupboard, missing Roy's amused glance.

'Secreted from a cow,' huh? That was new; he certainly hadn't heard that one before.

Ed dumped the seasonings liberally onto his oatmeal and tried a bite. He gave an absent nod, apparently satisfied, and continued on with his meal. About halfway through, however, he slowed, and gave his oatmeal a pensive look.

"No meat today," Ed noted quietly, glancing up at Roy, most likely to gauge his reaction. Pursing his lips, the Colonel set down his spoon. "Not even for me."

"No," he agreed at length. "It wouldn't go with oatmeal anyhow."

Ed raised an eyebrow, but looked back down to his oatmeal, not questioning any further. There were a few more moments of silence, and Roy picked up his spoon again. Then the boy drew in a breath. "Last night. You said… something about everyone having demons. You also said that when… you told me about the meat. Are they—the meat and nightmares… connected?"

Roy glanced quickly at Ed, who was still staring down at his oatmeal like it was the most interesting thing in the room. It was times like these that reminded the Colonel why the kid was the Fullmetal Alchemist; sometimes, it was hard to see past the many facets of Ed's personality to the intelligence underneath. And with this timidity in place, Ed's constant foraging for answers was even more fascinating to witness.

The spoon clinked as Roy tapped it against the side of the bowl, debating. It didn't take long. "Yes," he said. "Ishval… Well, let me put it this way: cooking flesh all smells fairly similar. Poultry, beef, pork…" He glanced almost unconsciously down at the damning circle on the back of his glove. "…humans," he whispered.

Ed's eyes widened and his shoulders stiffened. Looking nauseous, he swallowed and nodded. "So… if you ate meat, it'd be like…"

Roy nodded. "To me, it would feel very much like cannibalism."

Ed couldn't withhold a shudder of disgust. Roy couldn't blame him.

Roy finished off his oatmeal and stood to set it in the sink, glancing at the clock as he passed it. "I should be going now. I'll be back the usual time."

Ed nodded and, with no more words to exchange, the Colonel shrugged on his military jacket and headed off to work.

Staring out the window, Ed sighed and tilted his head forward to rest against the glass. "This is fantastic," he murmured, speaking to the empty air. "Just realized—I have to go back to the office next week." He closed his eyes, brows furrowing in frustration.

"Ah, well," he whispered. "I'll work something out. I always do…"

**Thanks for reading. Next chapter is the chapter I had idealized from when I first started writing this story... Hopefully it will turn out right. Drop a line if you should feel so inclined. XD**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	13. XII

**Here I am! Sorry I'm a bit late, but my laptop got hijacked and I had to try to type this up on our family computer with two brothers determined to look over my shoulder. -_- I made it though!**

**Thanks to all reviewers for motivation to write. Huge thanks to AprilJoy for betaing my work.**

**Enjoy! XD**

* * *

><p>"Twenty minutes?"<p>

Roy was giving Ed an odd look. The blond boy wouldn't meet his eyes, and he was shifting his balance nervously from foot to foot as if the ground was burning through the soles of his shoes. Maybe he shouldn't be drilling the boy for answers—though his current technique could hardly be called _drilling_, it _was_ harsher than he'd spoken to the boy since he'd come here. A confused alchemist cannot be called a content alchemist.

"Ed, what on earth do you need twenty minutes for? Why not just come with me in the car?"

The door was open, and Roy was decked out in uniform with one booted foot across the threshold. Ed… had been in his room for the past half-hour, and Roy had _assumed_ that he'd been getting ready. Apparently, however, he'd really been psyching himself up for asking Roy for another twenty minutes. Or something like that—because Ed was exactly as ready as he had been when he left the breakfast table. That is to say, not at all.

Golden hair had been in quite the crazy bed head arrangement, and while the nervous patting of the last five minutes had flattened it, snarls were visible, and if he didn't comb it soon Roy was sure a rat would make its home in the mess. The Colonel was pretty sure that the long- and short-sleeved ensemble Ed was wearing was the same one he'd been wearing yesterday. And that nervous chewing on his lip, as well as the tentative demeanor, would be sure to scare the team more than any state of disorderliness.

"Fine," Roy relented. "But if you're not at the office in an hour, I'm coming back to pick you up."

Ed's shoulders slumped in relief and he nodded gratefully. "Thanks." He took a step back, then another, glanced guardedly at Roy, then scampered back up the stairs.

Roy closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Maybe he could ask Ed what all this was about once the whole fiasco was over with. For now, he'd probably be better off just getting off to work before his Lieutenant had any reason to shoot him.

Silly boys with nervous disorders…

Wasn't Ed's fault. Not really. But couldn't he just set it aside today and be like he had been before?

Apparently not. Roy shook his head ruefully at the staircase Ed had disappeared up and completed his exit through the door, closing it behind him.

* * *

><p>Hawkeye leveled a glare at Roy the moment he stepped in the room. He drew back a half step in instinctive defensiveness and glanced warily at the clock.<p>

"I _am_ on time today," he said cautiously. In fact, only Fuery and Falman were here yet.

Hawkeye nodded, and her glare receded somewhat. "You do realize what you've left behind?"

Roy blinked, looked down—his uniform was fine. What else could he… oh, right.

"Ed insisted on another twenty minutes, and said he'd get here himself," the Colonel explained as he made his way into his office. The comment earned a raised eyebrow from the Lieutenant. Finally, the Fullmetal Alchemist was coming back to headquarters: late, as he always was.

"And if he doesn't show?" Hawkeye asked, handing him a folder full of paperwork as he passed.

Roy waved off her concern. "I told him if he wasn't here in an hour I was coming back for him."

"Alright," she acquiesced, and Roy closed the door to his office behind him.

Once he was seated at the desk, he picked up his pen, tapped it on the desk distractedly a few times… Filled out a few sheets of paperwork… Rested his chin on his hands and stared absently out the window in a stupor for ten minutes… Forty minutes into the workday…

Where was Ed?

* * *

><p>Combat boots sounded against the hallway floor, louder than he remembered, but that was probably just nerves. People were looking at him, and he had to concentrate to keep a scowl properly on his face.<p>

_They don't know. You've been gone for weeks, injured, of course they're staring, but they don't know the whole story._

The three layers of fabric on his torso were stifling; a wool overcoat wasn't a fantastic idea every day of the year. Leather chafed slightly at his flesh leg; it had been a while. A pocket watch, its location made obvious by the visible chain.

And no tall shadow following him, no clanking armor placating whatever idiots he might piss off today… But he tried not to think about that. Tried _really freaking hard_.

Up a flight of stairs, through a rabbit's warren of hallways that were annoying to navigate whenever his mind was elsewhere, but today he could swear that something was dragging him along the right path, some unseen force. Finally, he stopped outside of a door.

Not _a_ door. _The _door.

And Ed found himself utterly unable to turn the handle and walk in.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, a soft breath of near silent frustration. So much for being the one who always barged head-first into everything—but maybe he was subconsciously taking up the slack of responsibility in Al's absence. If he walked in and found himself unable to do anything but stammer, there wouldn't be any Al to drag him out. If he froze up, couldn't take it anymore because they knew what he'd hid from them, knew what Hinze had _done_ to him, he was still on his own.

Well, except for Ro—Mustang. But to have the bastard Colonel go into protective mode in the _office_, in front of _everyone_, would be a kind of humiliation he wouldn't be able to take. There was a very, very exact separation between his life at the office, at home, and out on assignments. Assignments were with Al, where he could afford to be himself, break down if he really had to. Home was where he made himself small (well, even _smaller_) and hoped Hinze wouldn't hit him hard enough to give him a concussion, and now it was the equivalent of assignment behavior but with Roy instead of the ever-comforting presence of his brother. The office was a place for one thing—cover. A place for illusions and a nice break to pretend. A place for bravado and anger.

His flesh hand tightened on the manila folder it held, and his automail hand turned the knob before he slammed his shoulder into the door.

* * *

><p>Nearly every member of the office jumped when the door slammed open, the doorknob meeting the dent in the wall for the first time in weeks. Hawkeye didn't even twitch, and other than a slight flinch, Havoc just snorted in quiet laughter and grinned widely as their youngest teammate strode in.<p>

Roy Mustang was the only one who'd had any contact with him over the past weeks—and from what little he'd said about his condition, Hawkeye immediately started looking for visible signs of a difference in Edward.

His eyes scanned the room instantly upon arrival, but he'd always done that. His face was twisted into an expression of utter annoyance and boredom, as always; Hawkeye was probably just reading into it if she thought it looked a little, well, _fake_. And he was silent. No shouting or arguing, but the visible emptiness in the air beside the boy where a suit of armor should be was probably the reason for that. No cushion for his actions anymore—and perhaps hardly a reason to pretend.

A slight nod as he passed them, not the usual loud greetings and complaining and ranting and mundane conversation (all at the top of his lungs) before Al was forced to bodily drag him into the Colonel's office for his report. Today he made a beeline for the door with the folder already out and ready.

The door opened, and there was a slight hesitation before it closed behind him, like a trap for the two alchemists.

There was no shouting inside, and perhaps that was what scared them the most.

"Hell," Havoc murmured, rolling his cigarette in his fingers. "What happened to that kid?"

A rhetorical question, one that they already knew. But the thought hit them all anyway.

"Plenty," Hawkeye answered.

* * *

><p>It should be noted that, upon Ed's entry byway of abusing the door, it was the Colonel who started the hardest.<p>

"You came," he said calmly as Ed closed the door to this office.

"What? You thought I wouldn't?" That voice was strong, as was the gaze. The face bore no cynical smirk or scowl. It was impassive, as if maybe Ed knew that nothing else could hide from Roy—not this time.

"Fifty minutes is stretching it, Fullmetal."

Instantly, Roy wanted to take those words back. Change that name back to Edward. This child couldn't always be a soldier, and needed to meet a human in the eye, not a commanding officer.

"Yeah, yeah," Ed drawled, his golden gaze sliding away, like he always did when tension grew too much to hide. Like he always did at the house, and even before that, though Roy had been utterly oblivious to what this meant until the boy had ended up in the hospital. Ed was nervous, no matter how well he could hide it.

The folder was tossed, and Roy looked down to watch it slide across the desk, resting an inch or so away from his hands.

"The forms," Ed said, answering his silent question. "I'm back on duty."

Silence. Roy no longer knew what to say. He thought he knew the shorty who pranced in here with his bold red coat and foul mouth, then thought he knew the timid boy too scared to speak his mind. But did he?

He just didn't know.

Smile and nod, they say. Well, he couldn't manage a smile, but a simple movement of the head would do.

The silence had grown awkward in the moments they'd allowed it to sit, and Ed swallowed once, looked back up at the Colonel and met his eyes.

"See ya," he said dismissively.

That red coat lied as it flared when Ed spun around. Maybe Roy finally understood why he wore the thing—Ed took refuge in his classic audacity, and damn it all if it didn't _work_.

The door opened with less force than the office was accustomed to, thrown open with more force than had been evidenced in months. The boots moved confidently, and Ed paused, turning his head halfway to almost look over his shoulder for a parting comment.

"You better find some new leads for me! I'll need some now that I'm back." Same bold, confident brat, a skin for him to climb into and hide within.

Roy watched his team stare at the closed doorway through his still-open one. Breda slowly shook his head and looked down, taking another swig from his mug of coffee. Falman hadn't looked up, but his hands paused in their work. The others simply continued to stare.

It was like they were having a little moment of silence for respect of the dead, like all of them had forgotten that Ed wasn't actually dead.

More than one person jumped slightly at a rather loud _thud_, and heads turned.

Roy Mustang head was facedown on his desk, and he lifted it up once more to bang it on the wood a second time.

And then a third.

He groaned.

* * *

><p>Edward Elric, listening at the crack in the door, also jumped when he heard the <em>thud<em>. And then:

"Why is it only the _one time_ the kid _doesn't_ call me a bastard that I actually feel like one?"

He sounded so frustrated, and Ed cringed. He almost feared going home today, but Roy… Mustang… wouldn't hurt him. Wouldn't… (All the same…)

"Sir?" Hawkeye said hesitatingly.

A moment of silence; someone might have mumbled something, or a sigh, or maybe it really was quiet.

"How is it that _not one of us saw_?" Mustang queried.

"It's a front, isn't it," Havoc said, and Ed bit his lip. So much for a place of illusions. "Chief's pretending to be like he always was."

"It wasn't all fake," Fuery said, sounding almost confident. A brief pause. "Um. Right?"

"No, I don't think it was," Mustang said tiredly. "But neither do I think I know nearly enough about that kid anymore."

It seemed there was a silent consensus in the office, and Ed crept away undetected, heart still in his throat by the time he arrived home—ahem. Roy's house.

* * *

><p>Ed wasn't in the living room. Roy didn't check the boy's room. If he was gone, he'd be back before long; the bookworm was probably at the library now anyway. Time to cook dinner. Or something. Stew sounded good right now.<p>

He heard the front door open and close, footsteps on the stairs going up and then back down. Ed didn't appear in the kitchen, however, most likely choosing to camp out in the living room. One flimsy wall between them, and Roy couldn't cross it just yet. Not that there was anything to stew on anymore, really—the _event_ in the office wasn't drastic, wasn't damaging to anyone or anything, it just… didn't fit in with what Roy thought he knew. But really, had he thought Ed would allow anyone to see him weak if he really had any other choice in the matter?

The stew finished far too soon, and Roy set down the stirring spoon and took the pot off the heated stove. Turned the stove off. Stood silently in the kitchen like a coward for a minute, trying to puzzle out what it was that was bothering him so much. Had he really expected Ed to come into the office as timid as he always was at home? And then he settled on it.

Boundaries had completely blown away in the wind, and Roy wasn't sure whose fault that was. Or who was supposed to fix it.

Finally, he sighed and walked out of the kitchen, leaning on the doorway to watch Ed as he sat on the couch, reading that alchemy book Roy had lent him for what had to be the thirtieth time. He'd seen him read other books, by now, but it always seemed to come back to this one. Ed wasn't turning the pages, and the Colonel was willing to bet that his eyes weren't moving from one spot on the page. Waiting.

For what? A beating? A confrontation, certainly. Boundaries had been crossed, avoided, and erased.

"Let's go for a walk," something said. It took them both a moment to realize it was Roy.

"I… just came back from one…" Ed protested weakly, but Roy really wasn't in the mood to let him weasel out of this. They couldn't live separate lives in the same house, and neither of them were particularly good at dealing with things they didn't even know how to approach.

He didn't need to say anything. Just made his way to the door, opened it, stepped across the threshold, and waited.

Ed wavered. He was scared—or maybe not quite that, but certainly nervous. Slowly, he closed his book and slid off the couch.

"Where are we going?" he asked quietly.

Roy lifted his shoulders vaguely. "I suppose we'll find out."

For at least ten minutes, neither said a word. They walked through the streets of Central, Ed eventually seeming to take heart at being in public, where too many witnesses ensured his safety. So he was still wary, Roy surmised, no matter how hard he tried to be that same hardheaded kid where the rest of the office could see.

Fifteen minutes. Twenty.

They ended up at the park. It was only actually a ten-minute walk from Roy's house, but they'd taken a roundabout route there. The silence continued, Ed looking about at the people they passed, dogs being walked, trees and cultivated shrubs. Anything but him, Roy noted. Gently, he laid a hand on Ed's shoulder; the boy flinched slightly and edged away just an inch or two.

"You're still scared of me," Roy said at last.

Ed stiffened slightly. "I—um, not… really."

"Can I believe that without a doubt?" Roy asked quietly. "You're not scared of me. So why do you flinch when I put a hand on your shoulder? Why do you stutter or hesitate every time you talk to me?" The Colonel glanced down to Ed—the back of his head. Staring at the ground again. "Why don't you look me in the eye anymore?"

Ed didn't answer for a while.

"I always thought you hated the kid I was before."

Roy's eyebrows raised in slight surprise. "I never hated you, Ed. Maybe I thought you were a bit of a brat sometimes, maybe I wished you wouldn't be _quite_ so stubborn or that you wouldn't destroy everything within a twenty foot radius every time you went out on a mission…" He hesitated. Did it sound like he was criticizing him? "But… you're also the boy who grew up faster than anyone I've ever known. You're the one who shows more loyalty and devotion to your brother than you can regularly find in a whole team in the military. Some genius kid who's probably smarter than I am, even if he can't focus on one thing long enough to prove it."

Ed was looking at him, finally, wary and maybe a little bit surprised. Roy again set a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly; this time, Ed didn't draw away.

"I never hated the boy who kicked down the door to my office. And I never hated the boy I've shared my house with for the past few weeks. I just…" Roy took a breath. "I just need to know which one you _are_. And I don't know that anymore."

Golden eyes seemed to stare into his soul, and then they closed as Ed let out a sigh.

"I don't really know either. I'm just kinda winging it."

**Ed's kind of a moment-killer, but I love him anyway. XD Thanks for reading. Drop a line if you feel so inclined, and I'll try harder to get this to you on time next week.**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	14. XIII

***looks around* Early? Me? Whaaaa? XD I'm updating a day early due to the fact that I'm leaving on vacation and will have no internet access. I'll be able to write, though, so my next update will be on time.**

**Thank you all who review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)**

* * *

><p>Things were a little different. After Ed settled back into office life, their existence was returning to a somewhat expected cycle, and if Ed still woke screaming from nightmares and Roy occasionally would inform his charge he really couldn't take the scent of meat today, then nothing was said of the fact. Scars remained, but life went on.<p>

And the wound that never closed, because Al was still gone, was never mentioned. Never healed, not really.

Of course _something_ had to go screw everything over again—naturally.

Roy really shouldn't have been all that surprised with news of the trial.

* * *

><p>"Trial?" Roy said blankly. "Who did what this time?"<p>

Maes shook his head, looking perturbed as he sat across from Roy in the Colonel's office. "Not like that, Roy. Y'know, _Ed's_ trial. Where we find out if that slimy snake Hinze gets his just deserts or no."

Something cold curled around the Colonel's heart, and he swallowed as he nodded. "_That_ trial. Right." A sigh, and he dragged his hand across his face. How had he forgotten about this?

"You're going to have to tell Ed." Roy recoiled from the comment with a snort, and Maes leaned forward to set his hands on the desk. "You can't avoid this. He should testify against Hinze—it would help the case a ton."

"He won't do it," Roy said automatically. Maybe that was his own two cents, though—he didn't _want_ Ed to have to stand up in front of God knew how many people and tell them what had been done to him, and then have edited proceedings of the trial aired on the radio as they were sure to be for a scandal like this one. After all, who _wouldn't_ want to know every last juicy tidbit about the personal life of the Fullmetal Alchemist?

If Roy could protect him from that, he wouldn't hesitate to do so.

"He won't do it, even if that could be the thing that puts Hinze behind bars?" Maes said softly. "You know how it is. If we let the jury turn a blind eye to this, they will. Ed's the people's alchemist, and they should be backing him up at a moment's notice, but they're not going to unless he's there, seeing their faces, and then none of them are going to want to fail him. We show a kid who's too timid to go out into the world and they're going to shuffle and hem and haw and let that monster off with a warning. That's it."

Maes paused, watching Roy's face. The Colonel was wavering, but wavering wasn't enough for the situation at hand. "Roy, please. Is it going to hurt Ed more to stand up and tell everyone what happened to him or is it going to hurt more to watch the man that raped and beat him and did hell knows what to his brother just walk away?"

There was a bang as Roy slammed his hand down on the desk, but Maes didn't flinch. The alchemist took a few calming breaths, and that alone told Maes he may have gone too far, but what had been said had already been said.

"Maes, I…" Roy sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "I'm not forcing him into anything. I refuse to drag him to the trial if he's so reluctant he'll just freeze up on the stand. But…" Roy seemed to have a hard time meeting his friend's eyes. "I'm won't take the choice out of his hands, either."

Maes nodded. "That's all I'm asking. But you should tell him how much is hinging on his decision—"

Roy glared. "Maes, now you're trying to get me to pressure him into—"

"He _needs to know_, Roy. Tell him the flat truth, got it? Or I will."

There was a long moment of silence, and Roy nodded stiffly. "Fine. You can go now." As if he were the one who'd invited Maes in, as if he were complying with a request rather than a demand from a friend. Maes shook his head slightly and rose from his seat, pausing momentarily to glance back at the Colonel from the doorway before leaving the office.

Roy was intensely protective of anyone he thought truly needed it. Before this whole fiasco, he probably would have shooed Ed off to take care of his own problems unless they were vital to Ed's continued loyalty or functionality. Now, seeing a more fragile side of the teen had transformed Roy into someone that, in relation to his younger charge, could probably best be called… a father.

Damn. Maes really should have known that Roy wouldn't have bothered getting a wife first.

* * *

><p>Roy walked in the door of his home and was greeted by the sight of Ed nonchalantly looking up from one of the books he'd checked out from the library. A stack of them was piled near his legs, reaching from the floor to a good six inches above Ed's knees, and Roy still didn't know what to think of the fact that <em>Histories of the Four Elements<em> was lying in its honorary place by Ed's side.

He didn't flinch at the sight of his guardian, and even managed to return Roy's smile. Ed was the one to speak first, another thing that couldn't have happened a few weeks ago.

"Can we get Xingese tonight?"

Roy quirked an eyebrow at him as he paused, about to hang his military jacket on the coat rack near the door. "Any particular reason I should know about?"

The question was answered by a careless shrug. "I like it. Haven't had it in ages."

The Colonel nodded. That was enough for him—which probably meant he was turning into a big old softie. "Mind you, we're not getting takeout every night."

"'Course not," Ed agreed easily. "Wouldn't want to miss _your_ home cooking."

After a moment of deliberation, Roy still wasn't sure whether that was sarcasm or not. Just when he was starting to think that he understood what was going on in the kid's brain…

"Takeout isn't good for you anyway," Roy finally said, switching his uniform jacket out for his dark overcoat. "We're walking there, alright?"

"What, you have to work off the calories you'll get?" Ed bantered, grinning slightly.

Roy sent him a half-hearted glare that Ed paused at, analyzing it warily before deciding that Roy wasn't actually angry. "It's not my fault that you could eat a horse every day and not gain a pound," the older alchemist griped. "Some of us have to work a little harder."

"For the ladies?" Ed snickered.

Roy drew himself up with as much dignity as he could muster without actually intimidating the kid. "Yes, as a matter of fact."

Ed opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again as he looked away. Most likely, whatever he'd had in mind was too offensive for him to risk saying to his guardian. He was becoming much more himself, both here and at the office, even if there were still clear glimpses of a boy that shied away from possibility of hurt.

"Let's go," Roy suggested, his voice breaking the somewhat awkward pause left by Ed's hesitation. The blond alchemist nodded and followed Roy out the door.

* * *

><p>They were beginning the ten minute commute back home, Ed carelessly munching on what had to be his third helping, when Roy remembered what he'd promised Maes. Anxiety twisted in his gut; he didn't want to make Ed go through something like this. A sigh escaped him subconsciously, and when he glanced over to his younger charge, Ed was looking at him warily.<p>

"Is… something wrong?" Ed queried. He'd stopped eating.

"Ah—" Roy hesitated, sighed again. "Yes."

Ed waited patiently as Roy tried to wrap his tongue around the words he had to say. "Ed, you know that after… what Hinze did…" A wince was expected and a wince came. "He's going to go on trial."

A pause. "And?" Ed prodded quietly.

"We want you to stand and testify against him. Can you do that?"

Ed stopped walking. Roy halted a moment later and turned to look back at him. The look on Ed's face could only be described as a mixture of fear and horror, and Roy watched as it slowly morphed down into something a little more manageable as Ed took a few deep breaths before responding.

"Testify. Like… tell everybody… all the stuff he did to me?" Ed's voice may have started normal, but rose higher in pitch as his nervousness grew.

Roy opened his mouth, closed it, and eventually nodded. "Yes. No one's going to force you to, but… Maes and I both think that…" He had to look away, couldn't meet the boy's eyes—"that if you don't testify he's probably going to get off."

The street was dark, by now, and there weren't many people walking past either alchemist. They stood in silence for a long moment, before Ed suddenly started walking on with a purpose. Roy had to jog a couple steps to catch up in order to fall into stride with him.

Ed didn't speak until they were back inside their own home, Roy hanging his overcoat on the rack as Ed practically collapsed on the couch as if his feet couldn't have held his weight a moment longer. Roy walked over and sat next to him, waiting for Ed to say something.

The blond just shook his head, eyes wide. "I—I can't do that. I really can't."

Roy slowly nodded. "That's okay. I just thought I should make sure you knew about it, in case… well, in case you could."

Neither spoke for several minutes, and finally Roy rose to leave.

"Roy."

He paused, half turned to watch Ed. The blond was biting his lip, eyes nervous.

"Will he really just… get to walk off free if I don't?"

Roy wished very much that he could assure his younger charge, but that just wasn't the way it worked here. "It's certainly a possibility," he said.

Ed nodded once, then twice, processing this.

"Okay," he said quietly. "I'll do it."

Roy smiled at him, both relieved and nervous. "Thank you."

Ed didn't meet his eyes when he whispered, "It's for Al."

* * *

><p>Roy couldn't help but notice that Ed was restless all the next day. He'd be reading, then he'd forget to turn the pages and stare at the same page for ten minutes before lifting his head to look out the window with a frown. He'd be drawing an array, and then the pencil would be tapping pointlessly on the edge of a partially completed circle.<p>

"Roy," Ed said suddenly, as they both sat on the living room floor engrossed in alchemy books. The Colonel's gaze flicked up to settle on his younger charge and he raised an eyebrow.

"What am I supposed to say?" he asked with a frown. He was still staring down at the book, but Roy was fairly certain he hadn't actually been seeing it for the past several minutes. "I mean, how am I supposed to tell them? You could say that he—he hurt me, so what would I say that you couldn't?"

"The outcome of the trial is the jury's decision," Roy said. "They're not going to ignore us completely no matter what, so the odds of you having to go back to Hinze is probably in the millionth decimal place." A dark shadow of fear crossed Ed's face as the boy stiffened, and Roy berated himself; he shouldn't have mentioned that possibility at all. "The thing is, they could probably convince themselves that I or Maes or someone was exaggerating. They could justify avoiding the discomfort of putting a sentence to his crime. If you were the one standing there and saying it all to their faces, there would most likely be a higher chance of them feeling the need to actually take action against Hinze."

Ed nodded slowly. "So… it has to be me."

A breath of hesitation, and Roy bit his lip. "It doesn't _have_ to be…"

"If I want him behind bars, it _should_ be me up there."

"…Yes."

"So what the hell am I supposed to _say_ to them? 'Oh, stick this guy in jail because he's cruel and sick and—and—I can't tell them _everything_," Ed whispered desperately. His golden eyes were wide and pleading.

Hell. Roy had been afraid that this would happen, that Ed would go into a panic as he realized just what he was going to have to tell the entire courtroom.

"Just… the events, I suppose. It's not going to be like going to Dr. Burke, Ed. You don't need to work things through with them or find acceptance, you just have to spit the words out no matter how sour they taste. Can you do that? Just say words at them and you can go, they're not psychologists, okay?"

Ed wrinkled his nose and stared unseeingly at the carpet. "Yeah, they're not. No promise of confidentiality, either."

"Ed…" Roy put a comforting arm around the boy's tensed shoulders. He didn't flinch away from the contact anymore. "Ed, it's going to be hard, okay? But you just—"

"I thought it was supposed to get easier," Ed breathed shakily. "You go to the shrink, chat, and once you can deal with things it gets better. Right? Doesn't it?"

Ed looked up to search Roy's face for an answer and seemed about to cry; Roy realized that his eternal weakness with Elysia's puppy dog faces also applied to Ed whenever the boy's confidence began to crumble away.

Roy slowly shook his head and brought his other arm to join the first around Ed, pulling him close into a hug. "It doesn't work like that, Ed," he said sadly. "Talking _does_ help, but all the psychology in the world can only get you so far. Eventually you're going to have to go out there and add some action to your words. You won't be alone, I promise, but you're going to have to move with your own two legs."

Ed sat slumped in his seat for a long time, and Roy hovered nearby, lending what comfort he could through proximity.

"When's the trial?" Ed asked him.

"Three weeks," Roy said.

Ed nodded, digesting this, and then said, "After it's over, can I start missions again? I'm completely healed now."

Something to look forward to, Roy realized, a reason to bother pulling through such a hard time. "Yes, Ed, after the trial we'll see about finding that philosopher's stone of yours. I think I've found a good lead for you, too…"

* * *

><p>Three weeks passed much faster than Roy would have liked.<p>

* * *

><p>When Roy entered the kitchen the morning of the day of the trial, Ed was sitting in his seat, hunched over a cup of coffee. He looked up as Roy entered, and golden eyes met dark ones.<p>

"It's today," Ed said, rather needlessly, his voice cracking on the last syllable. His foot tapped rhythmically on the floor in an obsessive movement. For the first time in more than a month, Roy saw Ed cross over the threshold of nervousness into actual fear.

"It'll be fine," Roy assured him. "You've been thinking about it and practicing for it for weeks. They'll listen to you."

"What if they don't?" Ed murmured apprehensively. "What if—I mean, he's a General, and what if they decide to just ignore me and—"

"Ed?" Roy interjected. The blond hesitated and glanced up, anxiety glimmering in his eyes. "Everything will be okay," he assured. "The jury isn't stupid, and even if they were they had better listen to at least one of Amestris's two most famous alchemists."

Ed bobbed his head distractedly. "Right. He's a General, but you're the Flame Alchemist and I'm Fullmetal and—and—" The rambling sentence, probably meant more to reassure himself than to agree with Roy, suddenly cut off as Ed bit his lip hard. Abruptly, he stood, setting the coffee cup on the table and striding in a beeline for the door. "Let's go."

About three hours early, Roy reflected, but they'd both dressed in uniforms almost immediately after getting up. Well, _Roy _had dressed in his uniform and Ed was wearing his red and leather getup, which was about as close as the kid ever got to any kind of uniform.

They could do this.

"I can do this," Ed murmured to himself, casting his gaze around the street warily. He was walking a bit too fast to be natural, and Roy had told himself several times already not to bother asking Ed to slow down a little. This nervousness was only going to increase, and not for the first time, Roy felt the familiar pangs of anxiety as he thought of Ed trying to stutter through his testimony up on the stand.

He'd broken down before, when it was just them at home, but not all the people here would be as kind with their judgment of his mental fortitude as Roy had been.

"I can do this," Ed said again.

A trial was probably not the best way to test whether you'd accepted what had happened enough to explain it, but there really wasn't any other choice open to them. Hinze was going _down_ if Roy had to set the bastard aflame himself. And that would be well worth it to Ed in exchange for a couple hours of discomfort.

Right?

"I can do this."

Maybe.

"I can do this."

Roy hoped.

"Hell, I can't do this."

Ed had frozen, his feet seemingly glued to the pavement. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and he looked desperately to Roy as if for some kind of answer. Roy raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug; what was he supposed to do at this point? Ed shook his head, once, twice, then faster and too many times to count as he took one, two steps backwards.

Finally, he turned and fled.

* * *

><p>Maes found Roy standing pointlessly in the middle of the sidewalk.<p>

"Um. Is Ed…"

Roy shook his head before the question had finished. "We're missing a key witness now. Let's just go get this show on the road."

* * *

><p>Roy closed the door heavily behind him, slowly hung up his uniform jacket. Took off his boots, and finally ventured forward to seek out Ed.<p>

Six steps and he saw him, up on the staircase's landing. He was dressed back in the two shirts and jeans he now only wore on weekends, and was staring down at Roy, chewing at his lip.

The exchange of gazes kept up the silence for almost two full minutes, but finally, Ed asked, and a shaking voice:

"Is… Did it… turn out… okay?"

Roy felt his mouth turn up in a strange, disjointed kind of smile that his brain hadn't exactly agreed with. "He can't hurt you. He has no right to ask for custody of you or your brother."

Golden eyes closed in relief and Ed let out a breath that he must have been holding. "I get to stay with you?"

Never in his life had Roy thought Ed would take that as a good sign, or that he himself would be happy that the blond was staying with him. Now, however, his throat closed in relief for that one victory and he nodded.

The smile was still fixed unnaturally on his face, turning to a kind of half-grimace. Ed's relief seemed to slowly fade and he asked, brows furrowed, "What's wrong?"

"He got off," Roy whispered, and any trace of levity that might have been present in Ed's demeanor abruptly vanished.

"… Got off?"

"Barely was even given a warning," Roy said distantly, feeling detached. "He got off. No jail time, not punishment. Just no chance of custody."

No one spoke. Finally, Ed wandered off back down the hallway, looking dazed. Roy sagged against the wall and slid down, finding himself seated on the floor without the strength to stand back up. He couldn't find any breath in his lungs.

Something inside of him screamed and shattered for the boy he saw hurt and the boy he couldn't see at all.

**Gaaaaaah I'm sadistic... And mean... And trying to make this realistic. :( I honestly couldn't see Hinze getting jailed for what he did as a General in the military, and so here we are. Hope is not lost, however! I really hate unhappy final endings.**

**Drop a line if you feel so inclined. XD**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	15. XIV

**Hello, my friends, and here we are with the next installment. Thanks to my beta, AprilJoy, for betaing and all you readers for reviewing. XD**

**...This story is nearing its close. There are less than five chapters left, including the epilogue, and while I think I'm still in denial of this, I'm informing you readers anyway.**

**That's such a strange thought. Hm. Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

><p>Roy had no idea—<em>absolutely no idea—<em>how Ed made it through the next few days, had no idea how on earth he managed to keep his cool when the bastard that had hurt him so badly was walking free. He would never know how Ed was able to nod, stoic, as Roy questioned whether he was still up for going on that mission.

And Roy didn't understand why he let the kid go.

Work didn't seem very different; Ed had gone on long missions before and had been away, more often than not, for the past several months. It was not necessarily a requirement for the temperamental blond to be there in order for life to go on around the office, even if the silent spot of air where he should have been was noticeable.

It was at home that his absence was truly felt. Had it always been like this, before? Roy couldn't recall, and if it was, he had no wish to. The air was lifeless and stale when he returned from work, meals lonely and depressingly quiet. Ed was expected to be gone for at least three weeks, and they would be long ones.

_Very_ long ones.

* * *

><p>No one expected him back in thirteen days.<p>

Thirteen; the unlucky numbers of unlucky numbers, and of course Ed would come home with that number in his wake. Of course that return would bring the worst blow yet.

The door slammed open and collided fast and hard with its dear old friend The Dent. Ed stormed in, more than a week ahead of schedule, the look on his face something no one could describe. Wrong, perhaps? Angry, pissed off, with eyes wide as if in denial of something, somehow intensely fragile.

He didn't speak to any of the team as he stormed through like a hurricane, completely ignoring Hawkeye's as-alarmed-as-she-ever-got "Edward?" and swept through the office, throwing open Roy's door with enough strength to nearly rip it off its hinges. Boots stamped up to the desk, and Ed froze. Lifted a fist, and slammed it down on the desk, before opening it to let what was inside sit gently on the wood.

Roy blinked in surprise, half ready to reprimand him, as usual, for destructive behavior. But something was wrong, very wrong, as their eyes met. Roy had seen that look before, more than once, never before at the office. It was the look Ed seemed to adopt with a hundred percent accuracy when everything he needed in the world seemed to be falling apart around him. Slowly, slowly, Ed's hand slipped away from the object he'd set on the desk.

Red glinted, and Roy's eyes widened as he sucked in a gasp of surprise. A leap of joy in his heart, finally, Ed—

Shit. Ed. The leap in his heart suddenly lost momentum and plummeted. Carefully, Roy looked up at Ed, finally understanding what was behind the horrified gaze. Golden eyes blinked hard, and Ed opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again.

"I—" The one sound was all the boy could manage, and his voice was shaky, fragile, breaking right in front of the man who would give anything in the world to know how on earth he was supposed to fix this.

Roy opened his mouth to finish Ed's sentence. "You did it." The philosopher's stone winked mockingly at them both, a sick parody of success when its only purpose was nowhere to be found. Roy felt sick, ready to throw up, that Ed had finally done it, just one mission too late. Too late. Al was gone.

There was nothing else to say, and Ed's mouth trembled with the effort of trying to speak in empty air. Golden eyes blinked once, then three times in quick succession. The strength suddenly bled out of him, and Ed squeezed his eyes shut and slumped against the desk, sliding to the floor with shoulders shaking. Sobs finally broke out of him, and Roy thought that this might be the first time he'd actually seen Ed really _break down_.

Roy was out of his chair in a second, making his way around a desk and kneeling in front of his crouching, crying charge. Gently, he wrapped Ed in a hug, pulling him close.

"It's going to be alright," he promised, even though he had absolutely no idea how. Roy would walk over a red-hot bed of nails if he had to, go through hell and high water, but he _would_ make this alright. He gently rubbed Ed's back, trying to soothe the teen, but if anything, Ed just cried harder, huge gasping sobs that had to feel like suffocating or drowning or—he probably felt that way anyway, really, with _this_ happening.

The question had always been when—or even, admittedly, _if_—they would find the stone.

It had never been a question of which of the brothers would make it to the day.

It was at least a minute before Roy glanced up and saw that the door was still wide open; his team was looking on and apparently doing their best not to gape. Something inside him stiffened up, was ready to stand, be an untouchable and unsympathetic Colonel again, but a much larger part of him asked him why, exactly, they mattered at the moment.

His eyes met Hawkeye's, and she raised an eyebrow. Not incriminating, not skeptical, but an honest question.

Ed let out a particularly shaky sob, and Roy looked away from his Lieutenant, instead tightening his arms a little more around his charge. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawkeye quietly usher the team back to work and discreetly move over to close Roy's office door.

The position could hardly be called comfortable, with his knees aching and arm beginning to tire from the repetitive movement of rubbing Ed's back. His uniform jacket was going to be nothing approaching dry by the time Ed was done, he figured, and after mulling over that fact and the discomfort for a moment, Roy concluded that he really didn't care in the slightest.

Ed's hands were fisted tightly into the front of his jacket, and Roy couldn't recall when, exactly, Ed had latched onto him. But he was honored—well and truly honored—that when everything was falling to pieces, he was steady enough for Ed to hold onto. Was honored to know he was worthy of that.

Finally, after what had to be at least twenty minutes, Ed's gulping sobs petered slowly off into shuddering breaths, and then into silence. He didn't budge from his position on the floor, and neither did Roy. Gloved, mismatched hands remained latched onto a very damp jacket. One gloved hand rubbed a small, teenage back and another stroked golden hair.

"It's going to be okay, Ed," Roy offered softly, eventually realizing Ed was not in any fit state to start any kind of conversation.

Ed sniffed, fists somehow wrapping themselves even tighter within the folds of the jacket. He shook his head, once, quickly.

"Yes, it will," Roy gently protested. "Just you see. It's all going to be fine."

Silence. Slowly, Ed drew his face away from Roy's chest and glared up at him, eyes rimmed with red and lip trembling with barely withheld tears.

"_Says who_," Ed demanded in a harsh whisper, as if he expected Roy to begin citing renowned alchemists or something.

"Says me," Roy said simply. "The world isn't over, Ed. We just have to fix it up a little."

"How?" Ed's voice was desperate. "Everything just—_he_ gets let off, and then I—I get _it_, but too late and—and—" Ed buried his face in the jacket again. "And… Al's still gone and—it just, nothing, ever. _Ever_. Is okay. Not for _me_."

"We'll find your brother," Roy soothed, voice showing more confidence than he had. _After months? How?_ "Then it'll all be fine. Hinze may have gotten off, but you're safe from him, okay? You're safe. That's what matters most."

"How are we supposed to find Al?" Ed whispered. "You've asked Hinze, haven't you?"

Roy hesitated. "Yes," he admitted. "He said he didn't know."

"I bet that I do. Or _did,_ anyway," Ed murmured helplessly, leaning closer into Roy as if seeking comfort. Roy tightened his hold just a little. "Damn, why do I always mess things up for Al? First I got him stuck in that body, then I lose him and _forget_ before we can fix it all. Why am I so stupid? You'd think I could do _something_ right—" And Roy wouldn't hold with that kind of talk, even if he was glad Ed was finally talking about his brother again.

"You're _not_ stupid and you can do _plenty_ of things right," Roy snapped, maybe a little sharper than he should have. Ed shut up abruptly. Finally, Roy relinquished his hold around the boy and set his hands on those small, mismatched shoulders. "Al's body is not solely your fault, Ed. And neither is whatever happened to him this time. He wouldn't blame you for this, and you need to learn how to accept that you're not responsible for everything in the world. Alright?"

Ed blinked at him, stared. Slowly, he nodded.

Roy smiled at him softly, taking in the beaten-down, frazzled look written all over Ed's face. "You need some sleep, Ed." He paused, almost ready for Ed to protest, but he didn't. "You can use one of the couches, alright? No one will disturb you in here for a few hours at least."

Ed nodded again and slowly rose to his feet, Roy following close behind. The blond made a nervous glance to the side, at the glinting stone on the desk, and Roy moved over to open one of his drawers. He rifled around a bit, finding a little black silk box with a ring inside, a memento from a particularly memorable date on a Leap Day when the girl had actually tried to propose to him and wouldn't take the ring back when he'd refused. He dumped the ring into the desk to be lost among a hundred other odds and ends and carefully set the philosopher's stone inside the silken box.

"Would you like me to keep it for you until we find Al, or do you want to hold onto it?" Roy asked Ed.

Golden eyes flicked between the little box and Roy's face. Ed's gaze slid to the ground and he softly said, "You keep it. For now."

Roy nodded and set the box carefully on the desk. "Alright. Now that that's covered—"

He was cut off, the breath knocked out of him as Ed suddenly barreled into him and wrapped him into a tight hug. After about a second reeling at the shock of Ed, of all people, initiating contact, he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders.

Ed didn't cry, but Roy was pretty sure he heard a soft "Thank you, Roy." Then the boy stepped away, glanced up at Roy's face and looked heartened by the smile he saw there, even returning it slightly. Ed wandered over to the couch and slumped down onto it, lying down and huddling up as if it were ten degrees in the room. But he somehow managed to drift off into sleep.

* * *

><p>Hawkeye cautiously peeked into the room. Roy was working diligently on his paperwork, a nice sight to see. But…<p>

She looked over to the couch, where Ed lay, asleep. Smiled slightly.

That made much more sense, now.

She didn't mention Roy's slight breach in uniform protocol, or Ed's rather impromptu blanket of a somewhat damp uniform jacket.

* * *

><p>A quiet gasp.<p>

Roy looked up, but Ed was still asleep. After a moment, Roy went back to his work.

A whimper.

Roy looked up again to see Ed twist as if in discomfort, still apparently asleep. Must be nightmares; Roy stood to wake him, fairly certain he would not want to be heard by every soldier in Central Command if he woke up like he usually did.

It made a sad picture, watching Ed's breathing speed up, then seem to stop for several seconds before Ed seemed to remember how to take in air. His face was twitching in and out of distressed expressions, mouth uttering little quiet whimpers. Roy reached out a cautious hand to shake his charge awake.

Ed woke with a gasp, pulling away from the hand reflexively as he jerked awake. He stared up at Roy with wide golden eyes, body rigid with fear. Slowly, he seemed to recognize where he was, who he was with, and his tense shoulders relaxed, his eyes sliding away from Roy's face.

"Nightmare?" Roy asked sympathetically. Ed sat up and nodded, still not looking at the older alchemist. Taking the vacated seat, Roy sat back and kept an eye on Ed. Was he okay? How hard did this latest development hit him, exactly? "Want to talk about it?"

That was a new one. There had never really been any talking of any nightly horrors, not since that night when Ed had finally witnessed Roy's own demons. It had never come up, an unspoken taboo, one that Ed was supposed to be able to handle on his own. But he shouldn't ever have had to…

Ed shrugged, gazing distantly at the floor, lingering remnants of fear mixing with the sadness in his eyes. "It's always the same," he whispered. "Always."

"Hinze?" Roy asked gently.

Again, Ed shrugged. "Partly. Plus the… the thing we made. When we transmuted mom." His voice was level, but quietly horrified, and Roy didn't want to even imagine what it must have looked like, to continually reappear in Ed's nightmares. Roy reached an arm around Ed's shoulders and patted the automail comfortingly.

"That sounds like quite the awful nightmare."

"And there's Al," Ed murmured, his shoulders hunching as he slumped in shame. "Even in my _dreams_ I'm hurting him, damnit, why can't it just be alright?"

Roy gave him a swift squeeze. "It will be. The dream's not real, Ed—"

"But it _seems_ real," he protested, distraught. "Every time. Every last time I go to sleep, I have that dream, and I'm clawing at him like some sort of animal, rip off his soul seal—"

"It's not real," Roy repeated, murmuring it softly to Ed like a mantra. "It's not real."

"—And, and his armor just collapses and I'm holding just his soul seal and—and—"

Ed was practically panicking. "It's okay, that was just a nightmare," Roy insisted.

Suddenly, Ed stilled. Shook his head, ever so slowly. "No. No, it wasn't a nightmare. It's the _truth_."

Roy wanted to bang his head against his desk. _What_ did it take to get through to this kid that not everything was his fault? He has a nightmare and sees signs that he's hurting his brother beyond repair. _Why_ couldn't Ed just _see_?

"No, Ed, it's just a dream. You wouldn't hurt your brother like that, I know you wouldn't ever—"

"I was protecting him," Ed said quietly.

Roy paused. What? "Um…"

"I always knew what happened that night," Ed said quietly, his voice confident and fierce. "Not consciously, but… He can live without the armor if the seal is intact. I… took out the seal… destroyed the armor and—and—tried to keep him safe. From Hinze."

Honestly, Roy didn't know whether he should smile or not, but he was too shocked to anyway. "You mean… you hid him."

"Yeah," Ed said breathlessly. He looked up to Roy, his eyes more hopeful than they'd been in weeks. "I hid him. And—and if I can remember exactly where…" He trailed off, and the golden eyes clouded. Roy understood.

"He's still inside Hinze's house, isn't he." Roy's voice was flat, and he wasn't sure whether to feel angry or frightened or whatever about Al being so close to Hinze still.

Ed nodded, slowly. "In… in the bedroom. Somewhere Hinze wouldn't be able to find. I can't… if I could just get there I could know again, but…"

Roy's heart twisted around in his chest as he watched Ed's expression turn from hopeful to horrified. The older alchemist wrapped his arms around his charge as a small, too-young voice murmured the damning truth.

"I have to go back."

* * *

><p><strong>The moment you've all been waiting for is next chapter, where Al comes back into the picture and we finally meet that *cough*naughtyword*cough* ...person... Hinze.<strong>

**And school's starting up in a week, but I'm (most likely) still going to be able to meet that update. XD See you then!**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	16. XV

**Hello again! Here is the next installment, wonderful readers. We have officially hit 300 reviews! (I'm still flabbergasted by that.) Thanks to AprilJoy for betaing, all the rest of you, enjoy the chapter!**_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Riiiing<em>.

_Riiiiing._ A dark-haired man picked up the phone and held it to his ear, half distracted from the call as he tried to keep his daughter in sight through the doorway even as she toddled off.

"Hughes residence."

"Maes."

Maes' attention instantly tripled and he gave the phone an incredulous glance. "Roy? _You're_ calling _me_? Is the world ending or something?"

"Ed remembered where Al is." Roy's voice was flat, almost dreading, but Maes hardly noticed as his own jaw dropped.

"He's back now?" he began excitedly, but Roy cut him off.

"No. Alphonse is still inside Hinze's home."

Maes paused. "So Ed doesn't want to go in… Can't he just tell you where to find Al?"

"All Ed really remembers is that he destroyed his brother's armor and hid the intact soul seal somewhere in Hinze's bedroom. He can't give a more exact location but is determined that if he went back he would be able to find his brother."

There was a moment of silence in which Maes considered their options. There weren't many. "So Al's stuck inside Hinze's house and only Ed can get him out. And Ed's going to want to avoid that house like the plague, but Al's the one thing in the world that would make him fight tooth and claw to go back." He paused. "Roy, that's really the only choice there is if we want Ed to get his brother back. But you better not let him go there alone."

"Of course not," Roy snapped angrily. "I'm not letting him go within half a mile of Hinze without me nearby. And that's the reason I'm calling—you're in Investigations, you could come too. Ed's going to need all the support he can get."

"When?"

"Today. We're not wasting any more time. I'll pick you up."

Maes nodded his head to himself and would have agreed verbally, but the dial tone was all there was left to answer to.

* * *

><p>Ed was trembling. Not quite visible, but when Roy would put a hand on his shoulder to soothe the quietly panicking boy, he could feel the tremors passing through the small body. Golden eyes a little too wide, staring down at the carpet. His thoughts were approximately two miles away, in a room in a house that had long since been his hell on earth.<p>

Roy didn't know how Ed was going to cope, but he knew with steely surety that the one thing Ed couldn't do was stay away, now that he knew his brother was in there. As a disembodied soul attached to a piece of metal with a diameter of three inches—Roy shuddered himself and couldn't help but fear for Al's mental condition after being hidden, unmoving, in a bedroom for literally months in that state.

It was time to go. They could need anywhere from fifteen minutes to hours, depending on how willing Ed's memory was to reveal, and Roy didn't want to run out of time and have to go there twice. Ed was having enough issues as it was. And Roy didn't know how he was supposed to urge Ed into the car if he was just going to return him to a nightmare.

He took a breath. "Ed…" And the rest of the air passed back through his lips in a sigh as Ed jumped slightly and turned two terrified eyes to his guardian. Roy put an arm around his shoulder and squeezed once, hoping to communicate comfort, but his efforts weren't noticeably successful.

Ed's head swiveled over and he stared at the clock, took several shaky breaths, and stood abruptly. "We need… to go," he said, voice struggling out around trembling lips. Ed's shoulders were so tense Roy could have sworn they would shatter with a single tap, but as he gently laid his hands on Ed's shoulders, they only felt strong.

"I'm going to be right there with you," Roy promised, meeting Ed's eyes. "You're not going to be alone. I'll be right there and you won't be alone, okay?"

Ed still seemed nearly terrified and certainly worried, but he nodded slowly, frightened eyes fixed on Roy. "Not alone," he echoed. "Okay."

They made their way out to Roy's car, and the drive to pick up Maes was utterly silent. Even when the other man got in, attitude all smiles for Ed's sake, the blond boy was quiet and had his fists clenched by his sides, hardly seeming to notice Maes there beside him.

When they finally stopped in front of Hinze's home, Ed was practically hyperventilating with eyes as wide as saucers. Maes tried to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, but Ed flinched away with a quiet whimper. Drawing back, Maes glanced uncertainly to Roy.

Roy walked around the car and opened the door for his younger charge.

"Ed?" he said softly.

Ed swallowed convulsively and looked to Roy. The Colonel held a hand out to him and the blond merely stared.

"Ready to go get your brother?" Roy asked him.

At the mention of Al, Ed squeezed his eyes shut before nodding. He grabbed onto Roy's fingers with a death grip and tentatively stepped out of the car, staring intently at his old home. Maes followed him out, shooting a meaningful look at Roy that seemed to ask, _Why are we letting him come back here again?_

Roy answered with a raised eyebrow. _How exactly do you propose we were supposed to stop him?_

At the front door, Ed balked and stumbled back a step. Roy let his hands rest on the boy's shoulders, not stopping him from retreating or forcing him forward, simply giving comfort. Ed trembled as he tried to work up the courage to go forward, then finally shook his head.

"I—I can't knock. I'll go in, but I—just—can't face _him_."

Roy nodded his understanding and moved forward to knock. He rapped firmly on the door and stood back, keeping a hand on Ed's shoulder but positioning him so the blond was behind him to the side.

The tremors worsened and Ed pressed himself against Roy's side as the door opened.

Hinze was a thickset man in his forties, dark hair flecked with gray from the trials of his military job. He was clean shaven with a decent-looking face, if one ignored the look in his eyes or the way his mouth twitched in the barest suggestion of a lewd smirk. Hinze's black, beady eyes took in Roy's and Maes' faces and then flicked up and down Ed's body with a hint of faint amusement. Ed was stiff as a board and terrified—Roy was having a hard time unclenching his teeth, sure that if he did he would say something he actually most likely wouldn't regret, but would still have consequences. This piece of scum had been the one to hurt Ed in the most demeaning way possible, and Roy was enjoying the little images of Hinze writhing in flames that kept popping up before his eyes.

Maes stepped forward, the only one of the three able to speak civilly at the moment.

"We have evidence that Alphonse Elric is here." He would have gone on, but Hinze's face broke into a smile that should have looked helpful.

"Please, come in. I couldn't find him anywhere but I'm _sure_ you could."

Despite the words, Hinze didn't sound sarcastic. He stood to the side and allowed them to pass; Maes went through first, and Roy made sure to put himself between the General and Ed as the two alchemists walked through the doorway. Hinze closed it behind them and Ed jumped slightly at the sound of the door meeting its frame.

Maes explained they needed to see the bedroom while Roy devoted his attention to keeping track of where Hinze was in the room, ensuring that his own body was always blocking Ed from scrutiny by his stepfather. They made their way to the bedroom, Ed becoming so twitchy Roy was becoming convinced he was trying to keep hold of a caffeinated squirrel.

Hinze opened the door, revealing a room Roy remembered all too well. There was the bed, where unspeakable things had scarred Ed for life. There was the place where Roy had broken the General's wrist. The carpeting was different, no doubt having replaced the bloody stains where Ed had nearly died, on that patch of floor.

"It's nice to see you again, Ed," Hinze murmured, voice light but betrayed by his leer. Roy, distracted by his memories, finally looked over to see Ed cower away from Hinze's hand as it swatted at his backside in a suggestive movement. He saw red and—

_Smack_.

There was tense pause as Roy's mind scrambled for comprehension. Hinze had staggered back, his head whipped to the side. Maes was staring with raised eyebrows and faint approval at his friend, Ed was finally breathing again and had relaxed fractionally against the steady mass of his guardian behind him. And Roy's hand was still in the air, hovering where it had backhanded Hinze across the face.

_I just hit a General,_ Roy realized, and reflected that he should feel a good deal more horrified than he did. Maybe a little regret, perhaps? But the protective piece of Roy gave a disdainful snort and decided Hinze had a lot more than _that_ coming to him.

Hinze's eyes darkened in anger and Roy tightened his grip on Ed, practically dragging him to his other side to place himself in the line of fire in Ed's place.

"You dare raise your hand against—"

"Touch him again and no one will recognize the pile of ashes in the corner," Roy said coldly, glaring him down.

"Pile of—" Hinze's questioning statement broke off abruptly in realization and his eyes widened slightly and he paled as he glanced down to Roy's free hand, gloved fingers throwing off tiny sparks as they rubbed together. Roy wanted to snap. Wanted to fry this bastard into human fuel and leave him to burn. But he refused to make Ed watch that.

General Hinze's face grew furious and he looked to Maes as he drew himself up in righteous anger. "This man threatened me! Are you just going to watch?"

Maes raised a languid eyebrow and shared a glance with Roy before looking back to the General postured in his indignant rage. "I didn't see anything." And he carelessly pulled out a push knife to examine exactly how sharp the edge was.

Roy couldn't keep the smirk off of his face. A true friend indeed.

"If you'll excuse us," Roy stated coolly, "we'll continue searching."

Hinze spluttered and snarled incoherently as he took a menacing step towards Ed, but Roy pushed the boy back a step and stood up straighter.

"I don't believe you heard me, _General_. Stay the hell away from him or I will burn you to a crisp and enjoy the opportunity."

Freezing in place, Hinze narrowed his eyes and glared with pure hatred at the unruffled alchemist. But there's never much one can do against a threat like that, and the General backed down.

"I suppose you'll want coffee to reward you for your hard work?" Hinze sneered.

Maes nodded happily. "Two sugars in mine, if you will."

Roy kept his eyes leveled on Hinze's, and finally the General turned to leave.

"Watch your step, Flame," he murmured threatening, and Roy couldn't help but mentally scoff.

_I already do._

Roy finally looked back down to Ed. The blond's face could almost be considered to be smiling, and there was a glint in his eye as he stared after Hinze. He didn't seem to notice that he was still pressed up against Roy's side, but the Colonel didn't mind much. Roy's hand on his shoulder pushed him gently towards the door.

"Ready to find your brother?"

Ed's smile wavered again. Golden eyes stared into the room nervously, and it seemed that he wouldn't be able to take those next steps on his own.

"I'm right beside you, Ed. And Hinze isn't here."

The younger alchemist took a bracing breath and held it as he stepped through the doorway, then froze as his eyes flicked around frantically. Roy squeezed his shoulders lightly, but Ed flinched from the contact and Roy had a moment of indecision on whether he should draw away or keep a hold of Ed. The latter won out, Roy determining that Hell would have to freeze over before he left Ed alone in these circumstances.

"Do you remember?" Roy asked him gently. "Al _is_ in here, isn't he?"

Ed nodded, eyes squeezed shut—whether to try to keep from panicking at the sight of the room or a fruitless attempt to help his memory, Roy didn't know. Slowly, Ed nodded, then sank to his knees.

"Near the foot of the bed… the post on your left… It—it was just before he broke my leg," Ed stammered. "I—I tore the carpet…"

Roy knelt down as near as he could figure to the place and motioned for Maes. The Lieutenant-Colonel handed him a knife and Roy cut into the carpet, hacking off a decently sized piece that Roy figured they could repair with alchemy later, lest Hinze get agitated and complain about their methods.

Roy couldn't see any transmutation marks; either Ed had alchemized the floorboards very carefully or—more likely, given the situation—this just wasn't quite the right spot. He looked over his shoulder, about to ask Ed again, but faltered as he saw the golden eyes already open and staring at him. Ed had his arms wound around his knees and didn't seem to notice Maes hovering nearby on his knees, uncertain of how to comfort the obviously distressed teen.

"I… it's near there, I think it's…" Ed massaged his temple, as if trying to coax the location from his mind, body seizing in shudders from returning to this source of so many nightmares. He whimpered slightly and wrapped his arms around himself; Maes set a hand tentatively on Ed's back, then drew away again as Ed flinched at the touch. "Damnit, Al, where are you!" he said brokenly.

"_Here_." It was a tiny, tinny voice, and Roy glanced around for it. He couldn't see…

"_Brother? I'm here!"_

Roy nearly stopped breathing and Ed's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Al," he breathed, and then he was scrambling forward and tearing at the carpet.

"Al? Al, say something!"

"_Right here! Brother, is that really you? I'm right here!"_ Al sounded as frantic as Ed looked, and Roy could only imagine his excitement after being in the floor for so long. The tinny voice continued, and Ed gave a wordless cry of joy as he found the overlapping rectangles that were the trademark of hasty alchemy. Al's disembodied voice was drowned out by the transmutation that threw up blue sparks and lit up Ed's face.

Roy blinked twice against the transmutation and reopened his eyes to see Ed cradling a circle of metal about three inches across. Golden eyes were shut tight and his shoulders were shaking, tears flowing down his face to hit the bared floor. Al's voice was louder and clearer now, coming from the old, rusty-colored blood seal on that tiny section of metal. The younger Elric's voice was rising in pitch, nervous as his brother wasn't responding.

"Brother? Ed? Are you okay?"

Roy scooted his knees those few inches to get close enough to wrap Ed in an embrace. The teen's fingers reflexively tightened around the piece of metal as if he were afraid someone would try to take it from him, but Ed still buried his face in Roy's jacket as the tears kept flowing.

"Yes, Alphonse, he's okay," Roy promised softly. "You're both going to be okay now."

Maes sat down on Ed's other side, and over-bright green eyes met dark blue with a tentative smile. Roy nodded slightly to his friend and set his chin gently on the top of Ed's blond head.

"Everything's going to be okay."

* * *

><p><strong>*eye twitch* As much as I liked to let Roy threaten Hinze, I really would have liked that guy to be flamed or knifed or… or… anything. Dead, you know? Unfortunately, I couldn't find a realistic way to work it in… *pouts and growls*<strong>

**Well, I hope it was still a fairly satisfying confrontation. Thanks for reading, drop a line if you feel so inclined. XD**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	17. XVI

**Hello, my readers. *cough* So, I realize this is almost two weeks late... Well, school is being obnoxious, as is real life, and you understand what takes priority here. *shrugs* I should be fine for the epilogue though... O.O Whoa. Epilogue. This is the last true chapter!**

***Ahem* This is going to be a slightly obnoxious author's note, as I have a couple things to say. First, thank you for the many reviews I have received. We're at 360 reviews! Woot!  
><strong>

**I have a deviantart account. *grin* This means I can now post Lackluster fanart! ...Of which so far there is only the rejected cover art. My username is UnadulteratedGaze. :) Feel free to check it out!  
><strong>

**I have a favor to ask of all you readers. You like my writing (I assume, if you're still reading this at this point) and I'm trying to decide which of five - yes, FIVE - story ideas to write next. Information giving titles, summaries, genres, and characters can be found on my profile, as well as the poll. PLEASE vote, I'd like to know the popular opinion of what I should write. The poll will be open for three/four weeks (thereabouts) starting today. :) Thanks much.  
><strong>

**Phew. Now that all that's out of the way, I bring you this chapter!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Roy sat down, sipping his coffee, and pretended not to notice the outline of the face peeking around the corner, watching him. It made Al nervous to realize he'd been spotted, so Roy considerately feigned obliviousness and wondered what exactly it would take for Al to really trust him.<p>

It had been more than three months since Alphonse had been found under the floor of Hinze's bedroom. Roy remembered the day with no small amount of vertigo, Ed hyperventilating there in that home, threatening a General, finding the boy they'd searched so long for, and then endorsing a criminal act by insisting Ed draw the human transmutation circle down in his basement. The tiny piece of metal with its seal was placed in the center, Ed knelt by the circumference, and Roy stood nearby as a supervisor, though he honestly had no idea what exactly he was supposed to be supervising—Ed knew much more about this than he did.

The chalked lines had glowed with an unearthly light, turned red and blinding and Roy couldn't see Ed anywhere. Was something going wrong? Had it rebounded and left them with less than before? Surely with the philosopher's stone…

And then a wail had sounded through the basement, turning Roy's blood cold—but when the light had faded, it had only been Ed, crying into the hair of the figure his arms were wrapped around, an emaciated boy whose own thin form was shaking with tears.

Roy's first sight of Alphonse Elric in the flesh took his breath away, but when golden eyes flickered open, focused on him over his brother's shoulder, and _glared_, he felt his breath taken in another way entirely—more like a punch to the gut. He'd worked long and hard with Ed, helped him stand on his feet again after what had been taken from him, but Al hadn't been there. Al didn't really know him, just understood that there was another man in a position to hurt Edward again.

Physical therapy was an instant necessity for Alphonse. His fragile limbs trembled just holding onto his brother's neck as Ed lifted him carefully and refused to surrender him, though Al was taller than Ed was. Roy placated himself with the fact that, by the looks of it, Ed had to weigh a whole lot more than Al.

And physical therapy was closely followed by psychological therapy to assist Al in trying to get over his sensory deprivation. Private and joint sessions with Ed to get over abuse. Roy felt a little guilty for being so glad all this was being covered by the military—but it wasn't as if he wouldn't have ensured Al got the same care if he were the one paying for it.

Al was getting healthier in body and mind; but Roy shouldn't have been so disappointed that he flat-out wasn't trusted by the younger boy. Even if Al had always been the friendlier one, even if Roy had been good to Ed—very good, as good as he could manage—it didn't seem to sink in for Al.

But Roy wasn't the type to give up, and he'd wait for as long as it took.

* * *

><p>Roy Mustang.<p>

Of all people, Roy Mustang.

Al had heard his brother call the man a bastard more times than could be counted; personally, Al had thought the man was nice enough, but had a rascally streak and stuck his nose where it often didn't belong. They'd been able to trust Roy with their deepest secret, but it had never even occurred to Al that Mustang might be able to save them from Hinze, and so they'd never risked it.

Here they were, apparently on the other end of their stint in hell, and Al just couldn't believe it.

No, really, he didn't believe it.

Al didn't like Mustang. He didn't like how close he'd get to his brother, how he'd put a hand on his shoulder (_don't touch him_) and "smile," a smile Al also couldn't make himself trust. Being alone in the same house as the man was nerve-wracking; Mustang had the ammunition and the rank to do whatever he wanted to either of the brothers.

Despite spending years as unfeeling steel, Al could still remember very well what it was like to be beaten, to be kicked against a wall and pounded on until you couldn't move, and still having to get up and pretend everything was okay.

_Mom, save us._ A simple request that lead to a heinous sin.

Even more than his own beatings, Al remembered Ed's. More recent, more abundant, more severe. When Hinze would bring fists or booted feet or a belt across his back and body, always where clothes would cover it and no one would see. When Ed was twelve, fresh from completed automail rehabilitation, and Hinze took him behind a closed bedroom door and did things that made Ed scream but left no visible scars.

Watching his brother sob himself to sleep huddled in a closet where he could only hope Hinze wouldn't find him.

It wasn't going to happen again.

There was a knock at the door, and Al looked up from his meditative seat on the bed. He didn't say anything; if it was Mustang, there was no way in hell he was coming in, but if it was Ed, it was okay. However, asking for identity made the distinction all too obvious, and Al would rather not give Mustang a reason to be angry.

_Adults hurt when they're angry._

Eventually, the door opened anyway, and a blond head poked inside. Al perked up, smiled, and waved his brother in. Ed smiled back, a little more subdued, and moved in to sit beside Al.

"How are you holding up? After… all that time…" Ed's eyes were down, and he was looking at the floor in his inability to meet his brother's eyes. Al gave a slightly rueful smile.

"It's not your fault, Ed. I'm doing fine." Because this is the way it always was—here Al was, in the flesh, everything his brother promised, and Ed was still finding something to blame himself for.

_He'd promised it would be just the two of them, though, with no one else to hurt them._

"How are _you _holding up?" Al challenged, hoping for a truthful answer. If things weren't going well, it wasn't going to help Ed to try to hide it again. But then, Ed always tried to hide his bruises from Hinze even from his brother, so Al couldn't hold much hope.

Ed gave a slight smile that was probably supposed to look honest and looked back up to meet his eyes. "Yeah. It's great, Al."

And Al didn't believe his brother, either. _It's great. _If Ed were really great, he'd have brushed it off as "normal". This was Mustang's fault, no doubt. Ed's choice wouldn't factor into it, and this damning cycle would happen all over again, but Ed wasn't getting hurt again. Not if Al could catch it before Mustang sunk his claws in any further.

"Really." Al let a little doubt seep into his tone, enough to prod Ed to answer but not enough to send Ed on an alert.

But Al received a glare for it anyway. "Yes, _really_," Ed emphasized. Al looked away from his brother's incriminating gaze and his own golden eyes glared holes into the carpet.

"Ed, please tell me what's wrong."

There was an exasperated sound from the other side of the bed. "Nothing's wrong, Al," he protested, his voice softening. "Why won't you just trust Roy? He's done a lot for us."

_That's his excuse. And then he'll hurt us._

"I can't believe that, brother. Look, he may have you fooled"—Al twisted his legs so he could sit with his whole body facing his brother—"but not me. _You_ _can't trust him. _It's like you told me—they're all like Hinze if you give them the chance."

Ed shook his head and gave Al a sad kind of look. "I was wrong, Al. They're definitely _not_ all like him. Roy's certainly not. I mean, look, he protected me this whole time from Hinze—"

"Hinze wasn't even there most of the time!" Al exclaimed. Why couldn't his brother understand? "Ed, please, don't do this," he pleaded. "We have to get away now. He's just using our past to hold onto us."

"And _you're _using our past to make us let go!" Ed barked at him, forsaking the mattress in favor of his own two feet. "Damnit, Al, you're wrong! I trust him, okay? Isn't that enough?" Ed finished in a softer voice.

Al looked away with his shoulders hunched. Ed was searching desperately for safety where there wasn't any. "No," he said. "It's not enough. Don't be an idiot, brother."

Ed made another hurt, disbelieving sound. "I'm not the idiot here." And he stormed out of the room.

_Don't go to Mustang, brother, he'll hurt you. Please._

* * *

><p>Roy looked up when Ed stormed into the room, frowning fiercely. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question, but Ed's frown only increased and he didn't answer. Instead, he decided the couch belonged to him and sat down right next to Roy before kicking his feet up so he was reclining, his back resting on the colonel's side.<p>

"Something wrong?" Roy asked tentatively.

"It's nothing," Ed growled, his tone making it clear that whatever it was, it wasn't _nothing_. Probably something Al said, Roy figured sadly. He didn't like the brothers being at odds, but he needed Ed's trust to be able to help them and he couldn't make Al feel anything different towards him.

But Ed obviously didn't want to talk about it, so Roy let it slide this time and squeezed the boy's shoulder softly in a comforting gesture. An amicable silence held for about a minute, but the dark, stormy thought clouds over Ed's head were almost visible. Roy cast around for a good distraction topic, settling on one that he actually did need to talk to Ed about.

"I've been meaning to talk to you about something," Roy began, glancing down at Ed's blond head to judge the reception to his talking. Ed seemed willing to listen, so he continued. "Your contract with the military will be terminated at the end of the year, and that's just a few months away. I can easily imagine that you don't want to stay for longer than absolutely necessary, so you won't be renewing the contract, correct?"

Ed nodded once, relaxing slightly as the subject shifted away from whatever was bothering him. "I don't want a leash anymore. I've done what I set out to do now."

It was nothing less than what Roy expected, but he realized… he'd be sad to see Ed go. The boy deserved freedom—hell, he deserved anything he could ask for—but Roy would miss being able to care for him and guide him through the treacherous world.

And then Roy's stomach twisted in his gut as he remembered something he'd almost forgotten. At the hospital, Hawkeye staring at him, him considering the orphanage.

"You're going to have to go to a State Orphanage," Roy warned. "Not that I'm saying you _should _stay in the military, but I'm telling you that something should be figured out if you don't want—"

Ed made a dismissive sound. "Thanks, Roy," he said sincerely, "but I really don't mind. As long as I get to stay with Al, I'll go wherever." He pushed his way off the couch and seemed to think for a moment, apparently resolved of his previous discontent. "I'm going to go for a quick run, okay? I still feel like I'm still all flimsy from being in the hospital for so long."

Roy nodded absently. "See you soon," his mouth said automatically.

With a last parting wave, Ed was out the door. Roy still sat with his mouth glued shut, unable to speak his fear.

_As long as you get to stay with Al, Ed? _Roy reflected, feeling sick with worry.

There was a very real possibility that, once in the system, the two would be separated for good.

* * *

><p>A week passed, then two. The odd threesome would go over to the Hughes home at least once every few days for mingling and Gracia's heavenly cooking.<p>

Al was, as he always was these days, enamored with Gracia, delighted with Elysia, just barely wary of Maes, mistrustful of Roy, and exasperated with Ed. Roy was positive that it was Maes' familial status that was making Al accept him at all and felt more than a little jealous of the fact.

The exasperation with Ed, however, was almost entirely Roy's fault. Because now it was Al, rather than Ed, who was convinced that Roy was a manipulative bastard, apparently. After yet another evening enduring Gracia's sympathetic looks and Maes' raised eyebrows (accompanied by a half-grimacing, half-snickering kind of look), Roy gave a kind of forced smile and began to debate the merits of continuing to even try.

No. He'd never given up on Ed, and he wasn't going to give up on Al. Of course it would be harder to forget a wrong done to yourself, but it was so much harder to forgive anything that had hurt a loved one.

Roy had been staring at Al for too long. The younger blond gave him a dirty look, but as Roy hastily averted his gaze, he saw Ed's brooding look fixed on him.

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, in the Elric inner sanctum, a golden clash of wills took place.<p>

In other words, a glorified glaring match sitting on top of the bed.

Ed was sick of it. Al was sick of it. There really wasn't any room for negotiation, either.

Finally, Ed averted his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. For a moment, Al was heady with victory, then: "I guess we're just going to have to agree to disagree, Al, because obviously you're not going to give Roy the chance he deserves."

Al's face twisted into a scowl. "Brother—"

"I can't make you trust him, Al, but you can't make me _not_ trust him."

"If you trust him so much, how come you still sleep in the corner?" Al challenged. When Al had come here, Roy had expressed his concern of there being only one bed in the room, but Ed waved it off and gave it to Al. His habit of sleeping in the corner with a blanket and a pillow had carried over from their time in Hinze's home. Ed still did it, and Al's rational was that Ed didn't feel quite as safe as he claimed.

Ed threw his hands up into the air. "I'll sleep on the couch if you want me too, damnit! It's just reflex by now. I trust Roy completely. I don't even pretend to understand why you won't give him just one chance."

"And then a second chance, and then a third," Al muttered. "Look, I'm not just going to set myself up for failure."

"_One_ chance, Al, that's all I'd ever ask of you," Ed promised. "Just one. If he betrays that one chance, then I'm all with you."

That gave Al pause. Sure, he didn't _want_ to give Roy even _one_ chance, but if Ed was insisting on leaving himself vulnerable, wasn't it better to make a deal that after just once, he wouldn't be?

"Just once, and then you're with me on not trusting him," Al reestablished. Ed nodded solemnly.

It was a challenge, of a sort, and as close as the brothers were, any kind of challenge was still readily accepted.

Al grinned, but it was a sharp, bitter kind of expression. "You're on."

* * *

><p>When Roy heard footsteps as he was reading his book, he expected to see golden eyes when he looked up. Just not <em>those<em> golden eyes.

His eyebrows rose. "Alphonse?"

The boy was fidgety, Roy noted, and he seemed to be making an active effort _not_ to glare. Whenever he caught himself at it, he'd glance up at the ceiling, take a breath, and look down again. Curious.

"I'm giving you one chance," Al said bluntly. "_One._ That's it."

Roy didn't blink; he understood what this was about, now.

"I'm glad."

Al was glaring again, but he didn't seem particularly inclined to correct himself this time. "That goes for both of us. You have _one _chance."

Again, it was easy enough to understand. Somehow, Ed had gotten Al to give a little, but only by giving a little himself. The brothers _would_ attempt an equivalent exchange even for something like this; it wasn't exactly how trust worked, but Roy figured that any little leeway Al was willing to give him would help.

He'd just have to make sure he didn't mess up.

Easier said than done, certainly, but jibes to Roy's ego weren't completely in jest. He could do this.

* * *

><p>"That was <em>seven<em> spaces, not six! Move back a space!" Al argued.

Ed pouted. "It was _too_ six spaces! You're just saying that because you want me to land on your hotel."

"Well, that's where you should have landed if you weren't cheating!"

"I moved six!"

"Seven!"

"Six!"

"_Seven_!"

Roy was sure he was going to crack a rib trying to hold in his laughter, and the two stubborn boys turning to him in tandem for a judgment of the highest order wasn't helping his cause. Finally, he stole his breath back from where the laughter was attempting to make use of it.

"Ed, you landed on my hotel last turn." Roy pointed it out, and then watched as the brothers carefully recounted the spaces.

Ed's eyes widened in horror and Al crowed in triumph. "Told you so! Fork it over, brother!"

Honestly, Roy wouldn't have pinned Al as a ruthless, monopolizing tyrant. Ed cheating, however? It meant the world wasn't ending quite yet.

The bills in Ed's hand were nonexistent, and he'd already been forced to mortgage almost all of his property. Ed groaned and checked how much he owed, then the mortgages—then froze with a cornered animal look.

"You're out of money, aren't you," Al speculated smugly.

With a howl of denial, Ed dived for the banking box that held the bills, and Al gave a wordless yell as he launched himself to intercept his brother. Roy surrendered to his laughter and fell onto his side, cracking up in the wake of the melodramatic events that were the Elric brothers attempting to play a clean game of monopoly.

Ed was thrown into the couch, but looked dazed for only a moment before rolling back to tackle Al, who went down in a squealing heap. Roy wisely gave them a little more space for their roughhousing, backing off so as not to become an unintentional victim.

It was good to see the boys at it, Roy reflected. Al did seem to be opening up to Roy, if only a small bit, and it made home life that much more interesting.

Al managed to flip Ed over and was now on top, working to keep both of Ed's wrists immobile—not an easy task. Ed was sputtering profanities and his hair antenna was waving back and forth like an irritated pogo stick.

Roy finally was forced to excuse himself so that he could die laughing on his back porch in peace.

After several minutes, Roy had mostly calmed down, and Ed was practically shoved out the door, leaving the older blond grumbling as his brother reprimanded him. Roy was able to deduce that Ed had been kicked out in order to leave Al in peace until the board could be set up to play out to the bitter end, between just Roy and Al, as Ed had gone bankrupt.

Roy didn't realize he was still smiling until he received an irritated glare from his blond companion. "What the hell are you smirking about, huh?"

Contrary to Ed's probable intent, Roy smiled wider and shook his head. "You boys… God. You two boys. You're utterly outrageous—I don't know how my house is going to survive this."

"We'll be gone in a couple months," Ed grumbled. "You're not allowed to get sick of us quite yet."

Roy laughed. "That's not—Oh, Ed, I wouldn't rather have spent this evening any other way than ruining my living room with the aid of a monopoly set."

Ed was looking at him strangely, and Roy decided he probably could have explained that better. "You two," he tried, "not so much the destroying my living room. Ah, you know what I mean, don't you?"

Rolling his eyes, Ed smirked and have a half nod. "I guess."

"I'll be sorry to see you go," Roy said softly, a vague melancholy descending at the thought. "Ed, if I… If I ever, somehow, become a father, I think I'd very much like my son to be something like you."

Roy didn't know where that thought had come from, but it felt right, so he said it. Ed's returning blank stare, however, claimed that _he _didn't know where that thought had come from either. Roy just smiled at him.

_I don't think you understood what I meant_, he thought sadly. Maybe someday Ed would.

But for now, his golden eyes were wide, and he was stuttering. "I—I, um, okay, I'm going inside now."

And he did.

* * *

><p><em>"If I ever, somehow, become a father, I think I'd very much like my son to be something like you."<em>

_Really, Roy? Do you mean that?_

_Because I've had two fathers. And neither of them wanted their son to be me. One left me, the other hurt me. And now you're saying you wouldn't. Now you're saying you'd care, that you'd actually want me._

Ed slumped against the door to his room and slid to the floor.

_You know, Roy, if I ever, somehow, become a son again, I think I'd very much like my father to be something like you._

* * *

><p>Al still wasn't sure what had happened last night, but hadn't seemed <em>bad.<em> It just sent Ed into a thinking mood. Roy had been thinking too, but he was half-smiling, so his thoughts were good. Al figured it had been an accident, but he could still tell that Ed was thinking about _him_.

Honestly, Al didn't like talking to Ed when Ed was thinking about Hinze. Hurt slipped all too easily into their conversation and Al would be left to try to change the subject, an impossible task. So instead, here he was, eavesdropping on Roy.

Roy was on the phone with Maes. Apparently the latter was rather surprised that the former had initiated the call and was insinuating it had something to do with Ed. Roy said it did.

Al was somewhat more attentive after that.

"I don't know what to do, Maes. You know Ed and Al deserve their freedom. I wouldn't dream of tying them to the military if they don't want to be, but—but you know how the State Orphanages are. It's not all that farfetched to imagine them getting separated from each other, and that's the one thing they wouldn't be able to take."

Ice solidified somewhere in Al's lungs and he forgot how to breathe. No. No, they couldn't take him away from Ed, they couldn't. They couldn't.

"Well, unless you have any other bright ideas—" Roy began acidly, apparently in retort to a smart-alecky response on Maes part, but then he stopped short again, listening.

"Maes, are you sure you're hearing what you're saying?" Roy asked worriedly. He listened again.

"No. There's no way… What? No! I have no problem—hell, it's preferable to any other idea we've got, I just, you know the boys. Al still doesn't really trust me, he's definitely not going to like this…I don't even know if _Ed_ will agree… Of course! What do you take me for? You know what, good bye. I'll do my best… _Oh god Maes don't start on that again, _good BYE, damnit!"

Roy slammed the phone down with a huff and didn't hear Al scurrying away to his brother.

* * *

><p>Roy knocked on the boy's bedroom door, cautious and nervous. He was trying to order his thoughts inside his tumultuous mind, but it wasn't working very well. The thoughts seemed more content to tumble around like bowling pins cast aside by a rambunctious bowling ball.<p>

The soft murmuring he'd been able to hear from within paused for a moment, and then there was a tentative allowance to enter. Roy opened the door and stepped inside.

It wasn't often that he imposed himself on the Elric sanctuary, as he'd come to start thinking of it. He was aware they needed a place they could be alone, somewhere that belonged to _them_ rather than _him_. But now—right now, perhaps it was his own way of saying that he wasn't in control of this situation. It was entirely the choice of the brothers.

Because they were giving him one chance, apparently, and this might very well shoot it out of the window, no matter how good Roy's intentions.

"I—there's something I need to talk to you boys about," Roy began. The boys' faces were already pale, and both pairs of golden eyes were fixed anxiously on his face.

"Is it about the orphanage?" Al asked bluntly, voice tentative but not to be dismayed. "I—I heard you on the phone. Do you really think we're going to be separated?"

The question was practically whimpered, and Roy swallowed, closing the door behind him. "It's a very real possibility," Roy said bleakly. "I don't want you to go there, you two need each other."

"I'm not staying with the military, though," Ed asserted fiercely. "We'll find another way."

"I wouldn't dream of asking you to stay in rank, Ed," Roy confirmed. "And… I think I've found another way."

Here it was. The moment where Roy would figure out exactly how far it was that the boys trusted him. He shuffled his feet a little and leaned his back against the closed door; closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up meet each of the boys' gazes in turn.

"I understand why both of you had such a hard time trusting me at first. I'd like to think that I've earned the amount of trust I've been given at the moment, and ask you to extend it past first gut-reaction, here." Golden eyes sharpened and Roy took a breath to continue. "Ed, I told you I'd be sorry to see you leave. I meant that. And I… You boys are worth so much more than it seems anyone else that has been entrusted with your care has been able to realize."

The telling moment. Two blond heads cocked slightly to the side and their gazes were focused sharply on Roy. He took a breath, shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the shaking, and finally said it.

"I—please don't misunderstand me here, but I'd very much like to adopt both of you."

* * *

><p><strong>*evil grin* Isn't that a nasty cliffhanger? With Al still kinda mistrustful and ready to scram and Roy just popping the question? XD Well, it ends in two weeks. You guys can be patient, can't you? (If you're still here...)<strong>

**Drop a line if you feel so inclined!  
><strong>

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


	18. Epilogue

***gasps* It's the finale! Can you believe it!? After more than 60,000 words, my story is drawing to a close. XD**

… **And since I don't have anything else to say up here…**

**Enjoy the final installment!**

* * *

><p><em>Thump thump thump thump…<em>

On a normal day, perhaps Roy would have found the sound incredibly frustrating. Perhaps he would have complained to Hawkeye about the impossibility of getting his work done with the noise, perhaps he would have snapped and given the perpetrator an incentive to shoo.

Today, Roy couldn't help but grin into his coffee cup and chuckle a little at the sound.

Boots against the side of the desk, over and over in the rhythm of a bored child. Which is what exactly what the noise maker was.

Roy didn't think he'd ever seen Ed so absolutely content as in that moment. There had been the earth shattering happiness of getting Al back, yes, but this was true comfortable contentment. Sitting on the corner of Roy's desk with his combat boots thudding against the side, there was a light in his eyes as he flicked through the thick sheaf of papers. Roy hadn't ever seen Ed so interested in paperwork, either, but odds were he was hunting for any loopholes that could turn against him.

After Hinze, Roy could stand to be the subject of such careful investigation.

The door opened a little and Havoc's eyebrows shot up on his forehead. "Um, I was going to ask what the tapping was…"

Ed looked up oh-so-innocently, a glint in eyes just daring Havoc to badger him about it.

"…But now I'm not even going to bother," Havoc finished, leaning against the doorway and shooting a bemused look at Ed. "Boss, I thought you resigned last week?"

Nodding, Ed looked back down to the paperwork, apparently deciding that Havoc was, comparatively, only of nominal importance. "And?" he asked distractedly, eyes already eating up the words again.

There was a slightly awkward pause that Roy enjoyed as Havoc's gaze flickered between the two alchemists, trying to figure out why Ed was in the office. "But… you're not allowed to be here, are you?"

Ed shrugged carelessly, apparently disregarding the regulations around Central Command. "Exceptions are made for people like me."

Havoc had a strange look on his face. "People like you," he said slowly.

"People like me," Ed established with an impish grin. Roy could feel where this conversation was going and tapped his pen against the desk in anticipation.

"Like you, because you're Edward Elric, of course," Havoc grumbled jokingly, rolling his eyes.

"Not _just _Edward Elric," the younger blond said in a singsong voice.

Havoc sighed and slumped a little further down against the doorframe and grinned around his cigarette. "Yeah, yeah, you're the Fullmetal Alchemist too, no need to rub it—"

"It's Edward Elric _Mustang_ now," he declared, and watched with entirely too much enjoyment as Havoc's eyes widened to their stretching point. Roy couldn't help himself from smirking and was perfectly aware he looked to be the epitome of the phrase, "cat got the cream."

"You—you—" Havoc sputtered, his eyes flicking between Ed and Roy with growing alarm, and then his entire face turned crimson. "Married?!" he gaped. "_You two?_ Is that even _legal?_"

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Hawkeye didn't want to know.<p>

Like the time Breda had somehow gotten himself transmuted to a wall next to Havoc while Fuery and Hayate huddled under a desk in a fetal position. The colonel's eye had been twitching after that and there had been distinct evidence Edward had recently passed through.

Or like the time a week-old carton of rocky road ice cream was found in the air-conditioning vent when the maintenance men had come in to try and figure out why the whole office smelled like spoiled milk.

Or like the time with all those cats.

Or like right now.

Breda was roaring with laughter, Falman's eyes were actually opened in shock as he stood stock still, and poor Fuery was bright red and looked about ready to faint.

Ed was even redder than Fuery, however, and was currently attacking a very flustered-looking Havoc. With… were those the adoption papers Hawkeye had fetched him for a look-over? They were currently fluttering through the air like papery kamikaze butterflies, dive-bombing Havoc at Ed's command.

"You're _sick_!" Ed was yelling at him, coming at Havoc physically in lieu of any more papers to throw. "Absolutely _sick_!" The Lieutenant backpedalled in alarm and came up against a desk, desperately raising his hands in front of his face to block Ed's fists.

"Ow—ow—Gerroff, kiddo, I didn't—just thought—" Havoc stammered, but Ed was not to be assuaged.

"You are _so_ lucky I don't have my automail anymore, Havoc, or else I'd rearrange your face and then maybe I'd _fix _whatever's _wrong_ with your _head_—"

No one had noticed Hawkeye enter, as fixated as they were on the spectacle before them. She glanced around, eyes finally settling on the figure of the Colonel still at his desk. Generally, Roy would have been delighted at Havoc's misfortune, but now he looked to be halfway to a coronary. Hawkeye gave the conflict in the office a wary eye and decided not to intervene, with Ed in such a state; instead, she skirted the side of the room and made her way to the Colonel's office.

She snapped into a salute. "Sir. If I may ask…" Hawkeye let her question go silently, watching Roy's face as it tried to decide what expression to take.

Finally he let out a strangled kind of laugh and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry…" He cut a glance towards Havoc and added with a grimace, "Or torch him. That might be appropriate too."

Hawkeye's hand went to her gun in case Roy decided to make good on that threat, but he made no move to do so. "Sir, what did Havoc do this time?" she questioned resignedly.

Roy dropped his face into his hands; his chuckle came out muffled. "Ed's proud of his new last name," he said, then shot her a helpless glance through his fingers. "But I've just been accused of being married to a kid half my age, and male to boot."

Ed's acidic voice could be heard in the main office: "No, Havoc, as a matter of fact it _wouldn't _be legal! I was _adopted_, you idiot!"

Hawkeye stalwartly tried to resist the admittedly sane urge to laugh.

* * *

><p>It took a good half hour to calm things down. Ed was still highly disgruntled and a little red in the face, and Havoc made sure to stay at least three feet away from him as a precautionary effort.<p>

In all likelihood, Roy reflected, it would have taken only about half that time had Ed not realized Hawkeye's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. An embarrassed Edward was not a calm Edward.

And now Ed was again sitting on the edge of Roy's desk, shooting occasional dirty looks at Havoc as his gloved hands worked at shuffling the adoption papers back in order. But because the universe had long ago banned this office from normalcy of any kind, the door flew open with a flash of glasses and an ear-to-ear smile.

"Yo! How goes it all?" Maes greeted cheerily, brandishing a rolled up newspaper like a baton as he entered the office with a grinning Alphonse in tow.

Havoc spotted the younger Elric and looked away with a sigh. "You're a Mustang too, now, Al?"

Al beamed and nodded, while Roy rolled his eyes. "And no, Havoc, it wasn't a three-way wedding."

The expression on Al's face turned confused while his elder brother began ranting again. Maes let out a laugh and clapped a blushing Havoc on the shoulder.

"Not _that _kind of name change, you know," he grinned. The Lieutenant refused to look at him, and Maes abandoned his victim in favor of attacking Roy instead, slapping the newspaper onto his desk. "Take a look, Roy-boy, page 4A."

The colonel raised an eyebrow at his friend but didn't hesitate in following directions. The story was only three paragraphs long, hardly sensational, and Roy's eyes skimmed over it all in under a minute before he allowed himself a contented hum and a grim smirk of satisfaction.

"Hit-and-run," Roy mused. "How very sad."

"Did you—"

"I didn't have anything to do with it, Maes."

Ed perked up and turned at the words, his younger brother following suit. "What didn't you do?" Ed queried, cocking his head to the side like a curious cocker spaniel.

"Hinze got T-boned by another car," Maes said in a singsong voice. "Hit-and-run accident. The General didn't make it."

Two sets of golden eyes seemed to be reading Roy's soul. "I didn't have anything to do with it," he repeated, then added, "regretfully."

Al nodded firmly in a vindictive kind of movement, apparently approving of this turn of events, but Ed was still. Shadows lingered in his eyes, a dark kind of hurt, and Roy resolved to talk to him about it later.

Maes sighed in dreamy ecstasy and ruffled Al's hair, shooting a puppy-dog look at Roy. "I can't believe it. You're finally a father! It's great, right? Right?"

Before Roy had been given the chance to respond, Breda gave an almighty snort. "Naturally before he's even got a long-term relationship with a woman."

"Come on, did you really expect him to have a wife first?" Maes pointed out.

"Hey, I—" Roy began, but Al's bright voice cut him off.

"Well, now he can just marry Hawkeye and everyone's happy, right?"

Roy didn't think he'd ever blushed so hard in his life, and the red coloring that slammed into his cheeks was not remotely welcome in the company of his team. The entire office burst into peals of laughter, all except the one female in the room.

But as Riza Hawkeye gave Roy one of those _looks_ that told him to keep his men under control, he could swear he saw a strange little sparkle in those sherry eyes.

* * *

><p>"Riza Mustang," Ed said slowly, savoring the taste on his mouth. He cut a glance to his adoptive father and gave the man a lopsided grin. "I like it. Al's right, you know."<p>

Roy mulled over the words for a moment and had to admit he rather liked the flavor of that name in his mouth, but he refused to say so with anyone in earshot. Maybe someday, maybe in the far future. Not so much _now_. Not at all.

They were home, Roy sitting on the couch in the living room, newspaper in hand. Al was stretched out like a cat on the carpet reading a book and Ed was curled up on the other end of the couch.

"Really," Ed insisted, "It's great. Just marry her, it's kind of painfully obvious you like her after your blush of all blushes in the office today."

Roy made a disparaging noise and tilted his newspaper in an attempt to get Ed to realize he was trying to _read_ here, thank you—it was a lost cause, of course. "I do not _like_ Lieutenant Hawkeye," Roy sniffed. _I love her, _he thought.

"Mm-hm," Ed hummed skeptically, "whatever you say."

"I _do _say," Roy emphasized, and then, miraculously, Ed allowed him to get back to his newspaper.

They had dinner for the first time as a real family; each of them would suddenly break into a spontaneous smile as they sat at the table, but no one had to ask why. Finally, after they finished washing up, Roy was ready to go study his alchemy for a bit before turning in.

The brothers had other ideas.

"It's a clear night," Al explained. "We have to go look at the stars."

"On the lawn," Roy deadpanned.

Ed snorted. "No, that's boring. On the _roof_."

Roy's eyebrows raised at that, but his vote didn't count for much in current company, apparently. Twenty minutes later found the three of them lying on the rooftop huddled together in a Mustang Sandwich, blankets wrapped warmly around them. For a time, they pointed out the constellations to each other and recited the myths and stories behind them.

They ended up staying there for hours. Al fell asleep with his head pillowed on Roy's arm while Ed lay awake with his head on Roy's chest.

"Thank you," Ed said softly. "For everything. You saved both of us."

"No," Roy responded. "Thank _you_. You reminded me to live again. Reminded me what a family was like."

"Don't you already have a family?"

"A foster mother and numerous foster sisters," Roy admitted. "I haven't seen them in a while, come to think of it."

Ed's voice brightened audibly. "Introduce me!"

"When you're older," Roy told him automatically. "Trust me. I… just trust me."

There was a pause. "Okay," Ed pouted. The silence returned, and Ed twisted his body to cuddle a little closer to Roy, burying his face in Roy's shirt. "I always trust you," he said, voice slightly muffled by the cloth.

"I'm glad," Roy murmured, laying a gentle hand on the back of Ed's head.

"You're not my dad," Ed said suddenly, wrenching his head up with a determined look in his eye. Seeing Roy's expression, he hastily amended, "I—I mean, I'm never going to call you 'Dad.' Just, considering my history, that'd be an insult, you know?" Ed stumbled over his words a little, but Roy nodded and petted his hair to calm him down. For a dreadful moment he'd thought that Ed regretted allowing the adoption; any stuttered explanation was better than that alternative.

"I understand," Roy said, a slight smile touching his lips. He stared up at the stars and wondered how far they went, how long they existed for. Wondered how long _they _would exist, as a family, and as Al subconsciously snuggled closer in his sleep, Roy decided it would be a long time. Forever, preferably.

"What will you call me, then, Ed?" Roy asked suddenly. Sleepy golden eyes flicked up to his face and Ed considered. "Just Roy? Bastard, maybe?" the man teased.

His son grinned back at him and gave a quiet laugh. "You're still a bastard. You'll always be a bastard."

_Good to know,_ Roy thought amusedly, and would have said it aloud if he hadn't gotten a mouthful of golden-blond hair as Ed threw his arms around his neck. And in that territorial way that was Ed's love:

"You're _my _bastard."

* * *

><p><strong>~Fine~<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>*stares at last line*<strong>

_**What**_**.**

**I'm… done?**

***beams* I feel like my baby's all grown up now! *pouts* Except it kicked me out of the house instead of the other way around…**

**O.o Well, this is the first multi-chapter story I've ever finished, including the ones tucked away in my laptop that I don't dare allow to see the light of day. I'm… accomplished, or something. I'm very grateful for all you marvelous reviewers who stayed to see the end, the light at the end of the tunnel. XD**

**As for poll announcements: As of right now, Forget and Forgive is winning by a landslide, and I'm ending the poll a week early. *guilty glance* Sorry… but I want to be able to really get started on the in depth planning of whatever fanfiction I'll be doing next before I shift gears into planning for my original novel—I'm doing NaNoWriMo, and will chat about such with anyone who'd like to PM me! (However, this also means Forget and Forgive will not start being posted on this site until at least the first week of December, but probably won't be delayed past Christmas except in case of emergency.)**

**Thank you for all your continued support, and may I announce that we are just on the verge of breaking FOUR FLIPPIN' HUNDRED REVIEWS?! I mean, AMAZING, people! Thank you so much, I feel unworthy! XD**

**Drop a line should you feel so inclined! Goodbye! Adieu! But not for forever. ;)**

**~Un**Adulterat_ed_


End file.
